Delusions of a Visionary
by Split Illusion
Summary: In my first life, a man named Gandhi said: "First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win." [SI, Tobirama is hokage, Minato era, more militaristic Konoha]
1. It was the Rocks

Edited and reposted 1/18/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Part One: Ignore You

Chapter One: It was the Rocks

The ground underneath my feet is weird and bumpy, packed tight with what look like rocks and more rocks, side by side. I want to touch one. I bend down, fingers almost to the… rocks? They have to be rocks. They look like rocks, and Momma said the other rocks were rocks, and if these rocks look like the other rocks, then they're rocks, too.

I'm jerked upright, my head heavy for a second, too slow to keep up with the hand that Momma is holding real tight. I look up at her (up and up), and she's making the frowny face (that's what it's called when you do the opposite of the smiley face), "Never stop in the middle of the road, Miyo. Keep up with me."

Always do what Momma says.

I nod at Momma, and we continue. She's bigger, so she steps bigger, but I step faster, so it should be okay. I hold onto her hand tighter, just in case. The rocks are still bumpy, but I don't look at those again, I look up —forward. Daddy says that when you move to in front of you, it's called forward.

There are people everywhere. Other mommas and daddies that aren't Momma or Daddy. There are even other kids, which is way cool. But they're loud and some are crying, which is way not cool.

Is there a word for not cool? I'll ask Momma later. Or Daddy. Daddy knows everything, but if he doesn't, then Momma does.

The other not-Mommas and not-Daddies, they're loud, too. And they're talking really fast to the other Mommas and Daddies around them. And it looks like they're getting food. I think its food because over there is a guy behind a big wood desk, and his desk is covered with vegetables. Yummy, yummy vegetables. I wonder if this is where all food comes from. Maybe! Oh, maybe, yummy vegetables live here with their vegetable mommies and daddies, until they're ready to leave and jump into my tummy!

I giggle and pat my tummy, "Momma?" I call quietly (being loud is not cool) and tug on her hand. I make sure to keep walking with her, though (I have to go fast because Momma is big). Sometimes walking and talking at the same time is hard.

"Yes, Miyo?"

"Are we getting more yummy vegetables?"

"Yes, Miyo."

Yay! More yummy vegetables! I tug on Momma's hand and jump up and down –once, twice, three times! Vege-ta-bles! Momma smiles down at me as she runs a quick hand over the top of my head, "Calm down, Miyo."

"Yes, Momma!" I say, tugging one more time on her hand —because today is so exciting!— before turning to look at the yummy vegetables again.

If there are yummy vegetables here, then everything else here is probably food, too. Which is weird, because why have other food if you can have yummy vegetables? Mommas and Daddies can be weird. I wonder what all the other food is called. Maybe they're yummy, too, and that's why there's more.

More, more, more. I skip beside Momma as she tugs me around, looking at all the maybe-food. I want more!

And suddenly I _have_ more. More, and more, and more. Words come first. The sky is _blue_ and the ground is _cobbled_ and the people selling food are _merchants_ and Momma is _Mom_. Then come pictures. Momma's face is overlapped with _Mom's_ face (Momma's hair is blue and her eyes are black, _Mom's_ hair is _blonde_ and her eyes are _brown_. Both are stoic and mostly unsmiling), and then there is a world. A whole world in my head.

"Miyo!" Momma's voice snaps me from my thoughts, and I turn to look up at her again (up and up).

"I've told you already," her stern voice continues, a hard edge skimming her tone, her lips pulled down at the corners, black eyes stern, "Keep moving."

" _Althea," Mom_ says a lifetime ago _, "Haven't I told you to keep up already?"_ Her _blonde_ hair is long and pretty and her _brown_ eyes are staring into mine, one eyebrow raised and voice stern.

I rub my head to clear it, sending the weird images away (that's what Daddy says to do when I have a bad dream! I do it now, too, even though I'm not sleeping, because it's super silly to think that I have two Mommas) and place a hand over my chest, rubbing lightly at the faint ache I feel there.

Always do what Momma says.

I keep moving, tightening my grip on Momma's hand, holding as tight as I can before deciding that that isn't enough, and reach up with my other hand, too. I cling to Momma as she guides us through the crowd that gets bigger and bigger every time I turn my head.

Louder, too. Being loud is rude.

The word comes easy, now. _Rude_ , which means not cool, the opposite of nice. Momma and Daddy use that word sometimes, but I had never noticed until now.

Loud people are rude.

Daddy will be so happy when I tell him that I've figured that out all by myself!

"Momma," I tug on Momma's hand, looking up (and up and up) at her.

"Yes Miyo?" Momma's blue hair is like mine, and she has black eyes, not like mine. Not like _Mom_. Momma and _Mom_ , Momma and _Mom._

Blue and _Blonde_.

Now and _then_.

I rub again at my chest, where it feels like something sharp is pressing in, making it hard to breathe, I glance down, just to check that there's nothing there (shouldn't something be there?).

I hear Momma sigh and she tugs my hand, making me look up from my (not red, how weird) chest.

"Sorry, um," I make sure to hush myself (Daddy says to hush when I get too loud and hurt my ears), "Momma, is it… rude, to be loud?" I ask. Because I remember that home (but… maybe not this home?) used to be really, _really_ loud. All the time! But it didn't hurt my ears, then. But it does, now ( _then_ and now, _before_ and after). I stare up (and up and _up_ ) at Momma, while rubbing at my ear softly with my free hand. Maybe my ears got better (or is it worse)?

Momma stares down at me for a long time. We keep walking. Momma is good at walking and talking at the same time —even when she's not talking, "Yes, Miyo," Momma finally says, the hand that I'm not holding coming up to pet my hair.

Light blue hair, like Momma's. Not _Mom's_. I smile as wide as I can manage up at Momma (at… _mom_?).

"Good girl, Miyo" she pets my hair again, "But don't smile so wide, sweetie. It's not good around other people besides Mom and Dad." Momma gives one last stroke before her hand falls and she looks forward again.

I nod and shape my lips back into a stern imitation of Momma's straight lips, glancing up (and up!) at Momma to make sure that I'm doing it right.

Always do what Momma says.

Momma leads us around all the people _and_ people and _people_. The other Mommas and Daddies are still loud. Which means that they're rude, Momma says so. They also smell funny. Momma smells good, and Daddy, too. The Other Mommas and Daddies don't smell so good.

 _There was the smell of iron, once. A heavy, metallic smell right under my nose._

I scrunch up my nose and take a big, _big_ sniff, to try and smell something good. Not that weird scary scent that Momma smells like, sometimes, when she gets home from work after being away for _forever_. One sniff, two sniffs, and I can smell the yummy vegetables!

I wonder if things can _smell_ yummy. Daddy says that I like vegetables because they _taste_ yummy. Does that mean that I like vegetables because they _smell_ yummy, too?

I take a deep breath.

 _Just underneath the repugnant iron smell (or did I just smell it before the smell blood? Or after?) is the faint scent of a musky cologne. Something that smells rich and foreign._

I grip Momma's hand extra tight, and look down at my toes, which wiggle in my cool new boots. It's all wet on the ( _cobbled_ ) rocks. It had rained that morning. I had heard it out my window. Rain always smells yummy (because I like it, it smells yummy). The yummy rain smell always seems to layer over everything else, making all the stinky, gross other smells go away.

 _Rain_.

A chant starts in my head, drowning out everything else, something I only kind of remember:

 _Rain, rain go away. Come again another day._

I stumble after Momma.

 _Rain, rain go away. Come again another day._

The sky is _blue_. The ground is _cobbled_. The people selling food are _merchants_. Momma is _Mom._ Rain is _rain_ and now that I have more, I know that rain has always smelled yummy, even a world away from here (a life away from here).

There is a tight knot that has settled sharply in my back, making it hard to breathe. I rub a bit at my chest and focus on taking one step forward, like Daddy used to tell me to do, back when walking was kind of hard.

"Miyo," Momma's stern voice breaks my concentration (breath in, breath out, in, out. Smell the rain. The _rain_. Don't smell the iron. Don't see the blood. It's not real. _None of it is real. It's a dream. Just a dream. Forget it all. Forget. Forget._ )

"Yes, Momma?"

Always listen to Momma.

I look up (and up and up) into her black eyes. I don't have Momma's eyes. I have Daddy's, which means that my eyes are gray. But I don't really get it because if _I_ have Daddy's eyes, but _Daddy_ still has Daddy's eyes, then how does anybody still have eyes?

(I used to have _Mom's_ eyes.

— _Stop. Forget it all. Forget. Send the dream away._ )

Momma frowns down on me, her usual stern moue in place, "I am going to be buying our food now; you will not interrupt."

It's an order.

Always do what Momma says.

I nod.

Momma leads us over to a vegetable stand –a yummy vegetable stand! I jump up and down as Momma leads us forward, using her hand to pull myself up. Yummy vegetables! I want to see them all. My favorite is zucchini!

(My favorite has _always_ been zucchini.)

"Mr. Tanaka," Momma greets.

I look up (and up) at the man who has all the yummy vegetables. He is old. Mr. Tanaka has wrinkles all over his face, and his pretty light pink hair is maybe falling out, because a lot of it seems to be missing, especially right on top of his old, shiny head.

I look back over to Momma. I thought she was old, but now Mr. Tanaka is old, so Momma isn't old… maybe.

They're both big, though.

(I was old, too, once upon a time. In the dream. I think.)

"Mrs. Nakamura," Mr. Tanaka nods respectfully, calling Momma by the name Momma, Daddy, and I all share —a family name, Daddy calls it, "The usual?" Mr. Tanaka's voice is really soft. Almost like he's whispering. Maybe that's why Momma likes him, because he's not rude like the not-Mommas and not-Daddies on the street.

And they are rude, Momma says so.

"Yes, Mr. Tanaka. And add an extra bushel of zucchini." I perk up, gripping tightly to Momma's one hand with both of mine, bouncing on my toes so that I can see the yummy vegetables. Yummy zucchini is my favorite.

Quickly, Mr. Tanaka begins plucking out vegetables from the big pile on his wooden vegetable desk. Those must be the vegetables ready to be in my tummy!

Momma shakes my hands off hers and digs into one of her pockets, pulling out money. That's the stuff that Daddy says we have to give people to get things. Momma separates some of the money from the bundle she's holding and places it on a clean portion of the vegetable desk. I push up on my tiptoes, hands gripping the wooden vegetable desk in front of me to try and see the money. For some reason, it doesn't look like I expect it to. _Green._ Money should be _green_. Instead, money is white and red and yellow and kind of pretty with lots of cool swirling leaves on it. Not _green_ and _wrinkly_ and with _faces_ on it.

I bite my lip and stare at the money, which should probably be green. There was… there was something about money, in the end, wasn't there? Money, and blood. Money and blood. But… it was just a dream. Send it away. It was just a dream.

Mr. Tanaka places three big brown bags of yummy vegetables in front of Momma and me, startling me from my thoughts. I stare up at them, reaching out one hand to touch the bag closest to me. Yummy vegetables, all for us! We gave money for them and everything! That means that they are ours! Daddy said so!

"Miyo," Momma calls. I turn to stare up at her (up and up), keeping one hand on our yummy vegetables, so that the other Mommas and Daddies don't take them (they are rude, so they probably would! I'll totally protect this from the demons of the world!). "Do you want to help me carry these home?" I nod.

"This one," I tell Momma, tugging a bit on the bag that I'm touching. Momma picks up the bag from the table and gently puts it in my arms.

I fumble with the bag a bit —it's as big around as I am!— but by wrapping my arms tightly around it, I can still see over the top. The bag smells really good! Yummy, yummy vegetables! I grin up (and up and _up_ ) at Momma once I have the bag safe in my arms —no other Mommas and Daddies are stealing this bag!

Momma's black eyes stare into mine seriously.

"You will tell me if this becomes too heavy."

Always do what Momma says.

I nod.

Momma nods back and stands again, picking up the two bags left on the stand, one cradled in each arm. "I will walk behind you, Miyo," Momma gestures with her head for me to take the lead. I step carefully back into the rude, smelly crowd, Momma on my heels and bag of yummy vegetables in my arms.

Momma, Daddy, and I live really close to the market. Daddy said so once when he took me to the park. This is the first time, though, that Momma has taken me with her to the market. It's because now I'm a big girl, and I always listen and do what Momma says.

There's a lot and a lot of people around Mommy and me, and they're all so tall! But, since I'm a big girl (Mommy said so, and Mommy is always right), I know where I'm going. First, toward the north side of the market! The north side is the side that's close to the cool mountain with the two faces on it, so it's really easy to find north, and only _babies_ can't do it. But I'm not a baby, I'm a big girl!

Momma and I push through the rude group of people to the edge of the market, where there's a lot less people and a lot more room. I stop walking for a second (walking can be really hard, sometimes, and Daddy says that that's okay) and set my bag down by my feet, before I carefully look around. Momma pauses behind me, but doesn't say anything, because she knows I'm a big girl now, and don't need help!

I swing my arms around, so they don't feel so tired any more (it's not time to take a nap, yet). After going north, I have to go left!

I look suspiciously down each street. There are three of them. I know that left isn't in front of me (because that's straight!), but, is left the way with all the buildings, or the _other_ way with the _other_ buildings?

The way with the buildings is a dirtier road, and it seems to get narrower as the road goes along. The _other_ road with the _other_ buildings, though, is cleaner and bigger and it seems familiar. I study the roads, one more time (even the straight road, just in case) before I bend down and pick my bag up again, so it is hugged firmly to my chest. Momma always said that a hug can change the world!

...No.I tighten my arms around the yummy vegetables bag, and I tuck my chin into the brown paper. Momma never said that. Momma doesn't approve of hugs. _Mom_ , though… _Mom_ liked hugs a lot, in the dream.

I sniff, gathering myself (that's what Momma says to do when I get overly emotional), and turn down the _other_ road with the _other_ buildings. That's the way to go. I figured it out because I'm a big girl!

Momma steps up next to me, "Good job, Miyo," she encourages.

I almost smile up (and up!) at her, but Momma doesn't like smiling, "Thanks, Momma." I try and keep my face serious and in straight lines, like Momma does, but I can feel a bad, _bad_ smile tugging on my lips. I tuck my chin back down into the brown yummy vegetables bag, so that Momma doesn't see.

We walk without talking for a while (after going left, which is after going north, you have to go straight for a _long_ time, and then our house will be on the left!), which is easier than walking _and_ talking, but is also more boring, when I look up and see people running on top of the houses. I stare up at them, hoping that the yummy vegetable bag can hide my dropped chin from Momma, because I doubt she would like that. Just like she doesn't like smiling.

The figures on top of the buildings are all wearing dark colors, and they looks so tall and big and _fast_!

"Momma?" I ask, my voice coming out _really_ quiet, even though I didn't mean it to. It's just, they look scary!

"Yes, Miyo?"

I hug my yummy vegetable bag closer to my chest, where it feels like one of the vegetables is poking me. It really hurts, "Are those demons?" I ask, still staring up at the running people on the buildings.

Momma shifts and glances quickly up at the running people, before looking down at me, "No, Miyo. Those are ninja, like Mom and Dad."

I steal another glance up at the buildings, but the running… ninja are all gone now. They're so fast! "What's a ninja?" I ask.

Momma hums in the back of her throat, like she always does when I ask a question she likes. Momma is funny like that, "Well," she begins, "Ninja are Konoha's protectors."

"Protectors?" Konoha is the city that our home is in, Daddy taught me that. Though, I feel like I'm forgetting something else about Konoha.

"Yes, protectors," Momma nods, "they keep people safe. The ninja on the roof are genin-ninja, they're always in the city, so that the city always has people to protect it."

"Oh," that doesn't sound too scary, I guess. "So Momma is a genin-ninja?" I ask.

Momma shakes her head, "No, Miyo. Mom is a jounin-ninja. Jounin are the ninja that Lord Tobirama sends out of the village, to be the first people who fight for Konoha."

I glance up (and up and up) at Momma, studying her stern face and short hair. Momma is a first-fighter. That doesn't sound very protector-ing. It sounds kind of demon-ish, instead. I readjust my yummy vegetable bag higher in my arms, and take a deep breath in, smelling the yummy, _yummy_ zucchini that's right on top. I don't want to be scared of Momma.

"Is Lord Tobirama a genin-ninja, since he's always in the village?" I ask. There's something familiar about all this. Like a bedtime story I was told when I was still just a baby (but I'm a big girl now!), but not quite. Maybe Momma told me stories about him?

Looking up (and up!) at Momma, I can tell she's frowning more than normal because the space between her eyes is all wrinkly, like when my bed isn't made properly. Momma doesn't like that, so she must not be very happy right now.

"Miyo, this is very important for you to remember." I walk a bit straighter, which makes my yummy vegetable bag bump uncomfortably against my knees, but I have to pay extra close attention to what Momma says next, and Momma always says to 'stand up straight and pay attention, Miyo.' "Lord Tobirama is not a genin-ninja. He is the leader of Konoha and all of its inhabitants. He is very strong and wise, and many bad people, our enemies, who aren't from Konoha are very afraid of him."

"What's a… an inhabitant?" I struggle with the word, its seems like the big sort of word that has lots and lots of letters to it.

Momma shifts the bags around in her arms, "An inhabitant is a person that lives somewhere," she explains, "You and me, and all the ninja and civilians in Konoha are inhabitants of Konoha."

"Oh," I nod. I readjust my yummy vegetable higher, so it's no longer hitting my knees. Lord Tobirama sounds really scary, especially if he's the leader of all the… _inhabitants_ of Konoha, even the scary ninja! For a second I wonder if he's ever stabbed anybody, but then I don't wonder any more, because that's too scary for even big girls like me to think about.

"So Lord Tobirama is important?" I ask, just to make super, super sure. Daddy says to always make sure that the information I have is correct. I don't know why that's important, but it makes lots of sense! That's what a lawyer needs to do, too! I think. It sounds right, at least.

"Yes, Miyo. Very important. Always do what Lord Tobirama dictates," Momma orders.

I nod. Always listen to Momma! And Lord Tobirama, I guess.

I'll have to ask Daddy what dictate means later. He doesn't get tired of questions like Momma does.

We keep walking, once again in silence. It's not so boring this time, though, because Momma told me lots of things I can think about. Except for the scary things. I don't want to think about those. I hold the bag of yummy vegetables closer to my chest that feels kinda like it hurts, but kinda not at the same time. Like it used to hurt there, but now maybe it's getting better.

When we reach our house, Momma has to open the door. I walk into the kitchen, passed Daddy who ruffles my hair, and with much difficulty I manage to place the bag I am carrying on one of the kitchen chairs. I crawl up onto the chair too, and pull a really really big yummy zucchini from the bag, shoving it onto the table in front of me.

"Momma, can we eat the yummy vegetables _now_?"

* * *

1\. We didn't like our previous chapter one, we thought it was too... cliche? Boring? Either one.

2\. While we were editing and redoing chapter one, we thought, eh, why not redo _all_ the chapters.

3\. Over the next six weeks, each edited chapter will be reposted. Thank you for your patience.

The Splits


	2. Great Expectations

Edited and Reposted: 1/25/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Two: Great Expectations

I had been so proud to become a big girl, I think foolishly as the first body falls, the area in the middle of my chest tightening painfully. Making Mom and Dad proud has been my goal for as long as I can remember, but this...

 _Ring-a-round the rosie,_

There it is again, the strange... _haunting,_ of some odd memory that is mine, but also not quite. I shake my head to try and clear the eerie sounding tune, this is no time to be distracted. I can't fail again.

The sounds of battle rages fast and fierce around me. People left, right, and center are coming together and separating again in the gruesome dance that is death. There's so few of us left, though. The enemy advances ever closer, and I can see my comrades falling around me. The wind smells of iron and ash, picking up the scent of the bloodied ground and the great range of fire jutsus that are ravaging the landscape.

 _A pocket full of posies,_

To step forward and fight would mean causing pain to another human being, to accept their blood on my hands, but to stay back and watch would mean abandoning my comrades to their deaths, which is equally as unpalatable. A long-ago remembered saying of 'those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash' envelops my thoughts for a moment, and I step forward, my sweaty hand tightly gripping a kunai.

I can do this. For Konoha, for my precious comrades, I can do this. I ignore the dull echo of remembered pain radiating from the thoracic section of my spine, the taste of old blood heavy on the back of my tongue.

I can do this.

 _Ashes! Ashes!_

I step carefully around the corpse of a fallen comrade and raise my kunai in preparation to strike the back of an enemy (there are no underhand tactics in a ninja fight, just tactics), ignoring the now sharp, radiating pain in my back. A shout from off to my right distracts me before I can take more than a step, however.

I turn and recognize my death as it comes –bird, dog, dragon. Starting with the bird seal always signifies a wind attack; the addition of dragon makes the jutsu at least a B rank. I'm too close to dodge, and my left hand was too injured from an earlier attack to attempt a defensive jutsu in response.

"Wind release: Spiraling Wind Ball!" my enemy roars. From the enemy's mouth a spiraling sphere of wind forms and hurdles toward me. I try to lunge out of the way, but it is fruitless.

At least I won't have to endure the pain of burning to death, like so many of Konoha's enemies, but I've failed yet again.

I am cut down before I can run more than five steps. If only I was faster, could dodge quicker —like Mom has always tried to train me to do.

 _We all fall down._

My body crumples to the ground, the radiating phantom pain in my chest unignorable now. I've learned though, this haunting pain isn't real, the healer said so, it's in my head (in my memories) like so many other strange things I've never told anyone about. I breathe, in and out. I can overcome this. I have to. For Mom, and Dad, and… me.

"Miyo!" I can feel a grimace pull my lips down as I slowly sit back up, the fake pain in my spine once again disappearing, as if it had never been. I must have been the last to 'die' if my so called 'rival' is deigning to break character and speak to me.

"Sota," I greet, pushing my long blue hair back behind my ears as I stand.

Sota stomps closer to where I'm standing, his arms crossed over his chest and a severe frown on his face. "What were you thinking?" he takes one more step forward and pushes me –hard. I stumble back a step and then continue backing up, my heart suddenly racing, my muscles tensing in preparation for a real fight, my senses honing in on Sota as he continues to stomp toward me, his hands now clenched at his sides. I meet his eyes and raise an unimpressed eyebrow at the glare I'm met with.

"Sota," I try to placate a bit half-heartedly. The peaceful, 'I'm harmless, really' look that I'm going for is probably ruined with the kunai that I'm still clenching in my fist –my mom will kill me if I lose it, and if I put it in my pocket, it'll rip a hole or something.

"Every time you're on a team, that team loses!" Sota shouts and I have to resist the urge to cover my ears. For a kid that was raised in a city full of ninja, he should definitely know better than to yell. Most ninja clans have enhanced senses after years of ninja propagating together —some more so than others. For my family, it's hearing. "You promised-" Sota lunges forward and pushes me again. My feet tangle together. Faster than I can process, I am on the ground, my breath knocked out of me and Sota is standing over my prone body, the sun just behind his head, highlighting his form like an avenging god.

For a second, Sota's shadowed form is replaced by a larger, looming demon, but that image is washed out before it can even form when Sota's annoying voice rings out, "You promised that this time, if we let you play, you wouldn't be such a stupid pacifist!" I look around and notice that, of course, all the other kids have recovered from their tragic deaths and have gathered around us.

"Why couldn't you just kill him with a jutsu while he wasn't looking, like a good ninja?" Sota continues to scream. I turn my head and stare back up at him, squinting against the sun and grimacing at the dirt I can feel rub into my hair. In retrospect, playing ninja in a grass field would have been much more comfortable than playing ninja in a dirt field.

I think about telling Sota that my arm had been 'injured' toward the beginning of the game, and that, if I was playing by the rules of the game, that means that I can't form hand signs (not that that stops most of the other kids from cheating). But… eh. I kind of miss arguing with people (it's something I used to do, in that strange recurring dream that I get).

"If you're so concerned about winning," I say slowly, "You should stop watching me and start paying attention to your own fights." I smile up at him and cross my arms behind my head, going for casually disinterested, but mostly I'm just trying to save my poor hair from the dirt. That's going to be a pain to wash out later, "Unless you're so distracted from trying to watch me do something wrong, that you lose track of your own surroundings and die. At least I can last until the end of the game, Sota, unlike you."

The other kids surrounding us make a triumphant symphony of shocked and appreciative noises. My smile deepens. I can't see Sota's face very well because of the sun right behind his head, but I imagine that he is sporting a nice blush to go along with his spluttering and dramatic arm waving.

"That's not –Miyo! You're so stupid! Pacifist!" Sota finally manages to shout coherently, kicking his feet against the ground and sending a plume of dirt in my face before he spins around toward the crowd of kids. "Come on, guys!" he cajoles, "Let's play another round without the stupid pacifist!" Ah, children. I assume their ability to generate insults will get better as we age.

I watch as the kids around us slowly follow Sota, sending me perplexed looks as they leave. I beam as widely as I can manage at a few of the stragglers, watching through smile-squinted eyes as they leave, expressions of disgust on their faces from my obvious display of emotions. The local kids don't really like me to play with them, but they all seem to be in awe of my super cool comebacks —as they should be. Once they are out of my immediate line of site, I relax back against the ground and rub my face vigorously to get the dirt off it, being careful not to stab myself with the kunai while I'm at it.

"Stupid Sota," I murmur to myself as I sit up, moving my hands from my face to pat down my shirt. I can feel the grit of dirt in my teeth as I lick against them —totally gross. "Stupid ninja game," I continue to myself as I stand. I pat down the front of my shorts before plucking at the back of my shirt and shake my hair, trying to get all of the dirt out.

I sigh and give up –I'll just have to go home dirty, I decide. I stretch my arms above my head, appreciating the faint pull I feel in the muscles of my arms as I start back in the direction of the city.

I'm happy to note that I'm not too upset, but this isn't really the first time that I've been ditched by Sota and the other kids after a rousing game of ninja. Apparently at six-years-old, I'm supposed to be a hard-core aspiring killer, no if ands or buts about it.

Playing pretend killer is too weird for me, though –there's something about it that just rubs me the wrong way. I'm probably going to have nightmares tonight, actually. Not liking to play ninja has really strained any sort of friendship I had hopes for in my little part of Konoha, though. I've been irrevocably labeled a pacifist —the ultimate sort of insult a military raised ninja kid can think of, apparently.

I huff and drop my hands to my sides, rolling my shoulders against the lingering ache of being pushed and falling flat on my back. "Stupid Sota," I can't help but say again –probably because I know that no one is around to actually hear it. Confrontation against a mini army of pre-ninja isn't exactly on my list of fun things to do.

It only takes a few minutes of walking to leave the deserted training ground and reach the outskirts of the hustle and bustle that is Konoha. I stick my hands into my pockets —taking care not to stab myself with my kunai, placing the blade up flat against my wrist so that I don't poke a hole in my pants— and nod at the people I pass, schooling my face into an impassive mask, so as to avoid their disapproving looks. The residents of the leaf hidden village are just as loud and colorful as they were when I first made the trip to the market with Mom (when I first started _remembering_ ).

The civilians I pass are dressed in bright jewel tones; the women wear patterned sun dresses or shirts with no sleeves and shorts. The men are, for the most part, wearing shorts and t-shirts. I shrug my shoulders, a bit self-conscious of my own bare arms. I know it's normal, but for some reason, the amount of skin people show around Konoha makes me a bit uncomfortable.

I glance around at all the people, with their bright, colorful hair and clothes that almost always expose the arms and legs (and usually midriff, too, for both men and woman). People seemed to think that the more skin you are willing to show, the better.

If I think about it, I kind of think of it as a show of trust that people do. Only civilians are willing to shake hands, so instead, to foster trust and to show that they are unarmed, ninja show skin. I suppose, in a world of weapons and fighting, being willing to show skin is a pretty hefty show of trust.

Beauty in general is tied up in how fit you are, and the more androgynous you look, the better. I imagine it probably has something to do with survival and wars and ninja and other psychological stuff, but the rub of it is this: don't play ninja on dirt fields, because you will probably be wearing shorts and a tank top, and that stuff just doesn't do much to protect your skin when pushed down by stupid boys onto the hard, unforgiving ground. My knees look like they've been through a war zone, not to mention my poor, poor elbows.

I can't wait until I get into the academy, if only because then I'll be allowed to buy ninja regulated clothes. Civilian clothes are made to grab attention and show off a person's best assets. Ninja gear is made to be comfortable, durable, and provide some protection.

I resist the urge to rub at the back of my arms —the skin there is itching like crazy, but I know that if I so much as look down at my arms let alone touch them, the dirt in my scrapes will start to sting rather than itch. I'll take itching elbows over stinging elbows any day.

The crowd of people around me get louder and louder as I start to walk through the market near my house —it's the closest path home. Vendors are packing up for the day, and some people are running from stall to stall, trying to finish up their last minute shopping. I dodge out of the way of one particularly panicked looking mom and the baby strapped to her chest as they rush past me.

People can just be so rude.

"Miyo!"

I turn immediately toward the voice, my hand clenching harder around my pocketed kunai in reflex. Dodging their way through the crowd behind me is a familiar boy.

"Dan!" I exclaim, letting go of the kunai and taking my hands out of my pockets just in time to be swept up in a brief hug —we wouldn't want to accidentally stab somebody, now would we? Dan's arms squeeze me a bit too tight, and my feet are probably a foot off the ground, and my stupid knees sting from where they knock against Dan's thighs, but I wouldn't give hugs like these up for anything.

Hugs are pretty rare now-a-days. People have the tendency to treat any sort of show of emotion like something dirty that should be kept behind closed doors. Poor, poor emotionally constipated ninjas (there's a world of dreams, in my head, where emotions are encouraged. It's a weird idea, sometimes, but one that seems like a lot of fun to emulate). I make a face at one of the vendors staring towards us with a haughty, faintly contemptuous expression on his face. Stupid guy doesn't know what he's missing.

Dan releases me a short second later, one of his hands coming up to rub at my hair. I step back and bat at his hands, kind of impressed when I actually manage to hit him. Dan is a chunin now, so he's usually a lot faster than me.

"Hey, kid!" Dan grins down at me, his light blue hair —the exact same color as mine— glints gray in the fading light.

I feel my lips tug up in a big grin, "Hey, favorite cousin of mine!" Dan is the oldest child of my mom's older (deceased) sister and my favorite cousin. We were practically raised together after my aunt died. He has one younger sister (who is also older than me), Yvette, but because of my propensity to lose ninja _every time I play it_ we don't get along as well (ninja is _the_ competitive sport around here). Not to mention the fact that Yvette could outcompete every fangirl that there ever was. It's just not a state of mind that I understand _at all_.

"Such flattery will get you far in life, Miyo," Dan grins down at me for a moment before his face blanks out, like the good ninja that he is. "You heading home?" he asks.

"Sure am."

Dan throws an arm over my shoulder and starts leading me through the crowd, "I'll walk you back," he squeezes my shoulders.

It's even more hectic trying to get through Merchant's Corridor —the name of the market space— with two people than it was with one. Which makes sense, of course, especially since Dan seems insistent on keeping me under his arm and tucked against his side, creating a bigger obstacle to get around. And of course he keeps me under his left side, I note with exasperation, leaving his dominant right hand open and ready for the combat he apparently expects to find in the heart of Konoha.

I think it's a requirement for ninja to be extremely paranoid.

"So," Dan starts, tugging me close to his side, "Lost again at Ninja, huh?"

Seems like Dan has noticed my roughed up appearence, then. I grimace up at him, shaking my head, "No way," I refute, an edge of sarcasm in my voice that I can't control, "I totally won."

Dan snorts, pinching my shoulder lightly, "You're such a liar, Miyo."

"I'm not a liar unless you can prove it," I retort, smirking up at my cousin. He snorts again, but drops the subject, thankfully.

We're in the middle of Merchant's Corridor now, skirting around people and the wagons that merchant's from outside of Konoha use to haul their goods. It smells the worst here, the vendors are pretty sweaty and gross from standing in the hot sun all day, and the meat that didn't sell is starting to stink for the same reason.

"Hey, Dan?" I tug a bit at my cousin's shirt and look up at him, the back of my head resting on his arm around my shoulder. The blue haired boy looks down at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you think people smell bad," I start, fighting the mischievous grin I can feel forming on my lips, "because they eat so much stinky meat?" I finish, watching his face transform from the perfect blank slate to exasperation.

"Miyo," he warns, his free hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. It's funny to see him looking around at all the people, like they've heard me and are getting offended. Silly boy, in a crowd like this, you can't hear anything unless you shout.

"Think about it, Dan," I cajole, tugging again at his shirt and winning the war against smiles. My poker face is pretty epic, "The meat sits outside all day in the sun, and then people eat it, and the people here always smell so bad…" I trail off, managing to hold off on a laugh at Dan's increasing embarrassment. He's tucking me closer to him and looking around like attack is imminent.

"I mean, Daddy says no one has to eat meat to stay alive, so maybe the weird smell is the body's way of saying STOP EATING MEAT!" I yell the last part. With a startled exclamation, Dan's hand on my shoulder immediately moves to cover my mouth as his free arm tugs me up off the ground and tight to his chest. Faster than I can comprehend, Dan jumps with me in his arms and I feel a brief moment of weightlessness as my stomach tries to escape my body before we land on the roof of the building to our right.

"Miyo!" Dan scolds, dropping me to my feet and leaning over the side of the building, looking down at the crowd. Probably looking for a particularly zealous meat vendor that's out to kill me. He's such a good cousin.

"You're so smart, Dan!" I tell him teasingly, "This way is definitely the faster way of getting home." Dan freezes, his back muscles tensing and I can almost hear the creak in his neck as he slowly turns to look at me. I offer the boy my best smile and a thumbs up. "Now I'll have time to take a shower before dinner without being late, you're so considerate!"

Dan's face and body drains of all tension and he takes a small step toward me, "Miyo," his voice is low.

I run.

Faster than I've ever run before I scramble away from my irate cousin. I make it to the edge of the building and leap toward the next one, only for something to collide hard with my body while I'm airborne —which is probably the scariest thing that has ever happened to me. My heart is in my throat and the air is knocked from my lungs before I find myself slung under Dan's arm, landing on the roof of the building across the way.

"You're such a brat," Dan complains, hoisting me higher into a more firm hold under his arm. I idly kick my legs back and forth as I take in a deep breath, fisting his shorts in my (totally not shaking) hands as he starts running and jumping from building to building.

"Your favorite brat," I agree a bit breathlessly, knowing that his hearing was honed enough to hear me over the rushing wind in our ears, "So, how's the hospital?" I ask.

Dan laughs and squeezes around my middle, stopping for a moment to swing me up onto his back, my legs tucked around his waist and my arms hugging his shoulders before he starts to run again. _A piggy-back ride_ , I think. This is called a piggy-back ride. Or it was called that. In my dreams, or something.

"Hospital's good," he tells me, "Dr. Yama says that since I can successfully heal a fish, he'll let me start working on the easier patients." I can tell that he's trying to be nonchalant, but there's a bit of pride in his voice. I hug him more firmly around the shoulders.

"Dan, that's amazing!" I exclaim. I can practically feel the bashfulness radiating from my cousin as he shrugs, his feet never missing a step when he jumps from the last building down to the ground. I slide down his back and land firmly on my feet.

Dan turns around and ruffles my hair again, a small, pleased smile lighting up his face. I stare up at him for a moment, "Is that why you look so tired?" I ask, "Because you're spending too much time volunteering at the hospital?"

My answer is a firmer hair-ruffle. I try and slap Dan's hands again, but I'm too slow.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're too observant for your age, Miyo?" Dan asks. There's a teasing note in his voice, but also a serious one.

"My mom tells me so all the time," I offer. Mom also sounds way too serious when she says stuff like that. It always makes me wonder if I should have played it a little more stupid growing up (but it's hard when there are _things_ in my head that just let me _know_ stuff).

Dan — _once again, for pete's sake!—_ ruffles my hair, "Don't worry about it, kid," he soothes. I must have looked as panicked as I felt —so much for that awesome poker face, "Just means you'll do great in the academy!" Dan sounds excited, but his words send a fission of fear down my spine.

"Cool," I offer, playing it down. And the epic poker face is back!

With his arm once again tucked around my shoulders, Dan and I leave the alley and turn down the street toward our houses. Dan had jumped down in an alley just around the corner from the street we live on (his family lives right next door to mine. Most families live really close in Konoha, it's probably a clan thing from when the village started and people first started moving in).

As we get closer to my house, I see that my dad is in our vegetable garden (yeah, we like vegetables enough that what little room we have for a lawn is instead a place to grow our precious, yummy vegetables). Which means that Dad is cooking dinner tonight, yes! Mom is probably the worst cook in the world, the poor lady. Not that we'd say that to her face, she's way too scary.

"Dad!" I call as Dan and I stop at the front gate of my house.

"Miyo, Dan!" Dad calls back, not even looking up from where he's plucking spices up. Creepy, ninja senses is how he does that, I bet to myself. It's also how I don't get away with anything. Mom is even worse.

Dad stands, a basket filled with herbs and what look like cucumber and squash in his hands. He turns toward us and offers a small smile. Dad has smile lines deep around his eyes, and his cheeks always push up when he smiles, leaving him crescents for eyes. It's probably the most comforting thing that I've found in my life, Dad's smile (especially since smiles are so rare —even small ones like Dad's).

"Dan, you staying for dinner?" Dad asks.

"I wish I could, Uncle, but my family is expecting me at home. Have a good night!" Dan smiles up at my dad and offers me one last hug before he turns and makes his way out to the street (Dad will kick his butt if he dares to walk over the vegetable garden and hop the fence. I know, I've seen it). He gives a wave as he closes the front gate.

"Bye Dan, thanks for walking me home!" I call after him, waving. I wish he could stay, but monopolizing Dan would be really selfish of me. Yvette and Uncle Renzo don't get to see him much anymore either with his busy schedule, and they are his immediate family!

Dad leads me gently by the shoulder into the house (apparently, no one thinks I can get anywhere without them guiding me along), "Playing ninja again, huh? I thought you swore off that game?" Dad sounds pleased with the new development, and I wonder for a second how he knew, before my knees and elbows start itching again —a swell reminder of my day. If Dan noticed, of course dad noticed how scraped up I am.

I shrug and offer him the brightest smile I can manage (which was really only okay because it was the two of us, but I still saw my dad's brief flash of exasperation), "I only played because no one wanted to play sabotage with me —that game is so much cooler!" Dad chuckles and ruffles my hair (something everybody and their moms seems to like to do!), consequently pushing my head back enough to meet his eyes. His gray eyes, identical to mine in every way, stare down at me, a serious moue pulling his lips down for a moment.

"You know we just want you to be prepared for life, your mother and I. You know that, right?" In an ideal world, my parents wouldn't have to worry about me so much. In an ideal world, I could do whatever I wanted with the talents that I possess, or the ones that I simply aspire to possess. That's crazy talk from a long ago dream world, though. Here, if you've shown any sort of ninja-talent, you go to the Ninja Academy (I really should have played it dumb). And if you purposely fail, the prospects are not good for you.

Always do as Lord Tobirama dictates.

I lean against my father's side, meeting his eyes with mine. "Yeah, Dad. I know." Dad's expression immediately lightens and he scuffs his hand one last time through my hair (seriously, what's with tall people and hair ruffling? Weirdos).

"Good," he pushes me toward the hallway, "Go take a shower, then. You know your mother will be displeased if you get dirt all over her house."

"Mom's such a neat freak!" I tease before turning down the hall, stopping in my room to grab some clothes and put away the kunai that had been in my pocket, before moving to the bathroom. I'm lucky I haven't stabbed anybody with it yet, though that would certainly disprove the whole pacifist thing, I suppose. I walk into the bathroom and get the shower started.

I scrub myself clean under the cold water —hot water is a luxury that really only the Hyuga family and the Aburame family can afford. I use the specialty shampoo and body wash that boasts of neutralizing all natural body odors "for a full twenty-four hours! Guaranteed!"

I snort and wash the slick bubbly foam off my body. Smelling good was just as dangerous as smelling bad, when one is running away from enemy-ninja, I guess. Which makes sense, but a part of me —the part that dreams of different worlds and different lives, was begging to spruce up my scent a bit.

I manage to get dried off and dressed in a decent amount of time. Dad already has dinner set up on the table. It looks like a bunch of vegetables —including zucchini, I'm extremely happy to notice— stir fried and added to a light broth.

"Looks amazing, Dad!" I praise, sitting next to my mom, who is already seated at the table.

"Thanks, Little Miyo," Dad sets down glasses of water in front of my mom and me before sitting across from us.

Everyone is only a few bites into dinner when my dad speaks, "Miyo was out playing ninja with the other children today." I didn't have to look to feel my mom's eyes focus in on me. Suddenly, chewing the food in my mouth has become very interesting.

"That is good to hear. Did your team win, Miyo?"

I swallow quickly and take a quick drink to clear my mouth while lightly shaking my head, silently cursing my dad for bringing the subject up.

"I lasted the longest on my team, though," I offer. A quick shift of my eyes shows that Dad isn't looking sorry about it bringing up this dreaded topic in the least. Mom is frowning, as expected, and, also as expected, Mom completely ignores my response. Lasting longest doesn't do much when you die and let your team down, anyway. We've had that conversation before, plenty of times.

"Was the loss your fault or one of your teammates?"

I look down at my food, wondering that if I try hard enough, I can wake up in a hospital in my dream life —like, surprise! It was all a coma-induced hallucination! Weirdly enough, I don't magically wake up.

My lack of an answer is all my mom needs. Disapproval creeps into her eyes. "What did you do wrong this time?" This time? Every time? It's always the same story, mostly.

"I was rushing in with my kunai and got taken out by a high power wind jutsu."

"Why didn't you dodge or attack your enemy first with a jutsu of your own while they were distracted?" It was because I didn't want to (and it would have been cheating because my hand was supposed to be injured). Sota was, and is, for the most part, right. I'm a pacifist, in a way. I don't like to kill others or even pretend to in some silly children's game. Mom doesn't like that answer though, I've given it before, so I lie. I've _always_ been good at lying, but Mom is equally good at detecting lies. It's a fun game we play.

"Miyo," Mom rubs her forehead when an answer isn't immediately forthcoming. If Dad has smile lines, then Mom's face is full of worry lines, and I'm probably the cause of a lot of them.

"I know, Mom," I say quietly, pushing some zucchini across my plate. What a sad day when not even the wonders of the best vegetable in the world can cheer you up and give you enough confidence to meet your mom's eyes.

Dad sighs and shifts in his seat as he taps his fork idly on his plate, "We've talked about this before, Miyo."

"I know, Dad." Resist the shame, resist the shame!

"You're a smart girl, Miyo," Mom continues. Yay, the tag team. "You're extremely observant, you're fast, you do manage to last longer in your games than all your peers and that's good."

"But?" I ask, pushing a carrot around to join the zucchini.

"But," Dad takes over, "You need more than just support skills to be successful at being a ninja, Little Miyo." And the favored pet name is added to round out the searing disapproval.

Mom shifts toward me in her seat, her hand coming up to clutch my arm, stopping the onion from joining its friends on the edge of the plate. The vegetables have a suicide pact, and are preparing to jump off the edge of the plate together.

"Miyo," Mom's voice has softened, "sooner or later, you'll have to be able to take a life. This is supposed to help you with that."

Always listen to Mom.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

I run my fingers softly over the bindings of the many books in front of me, whispering the titles as my hand lingers over them, " _Ninja Law. Feuding Times, A History. Bingo Book, Konoha._ "

"Miyo?" I jump and turn toward my mom, one hand darting to cover my heart –as if to keep it from beating right out of my chest– the other shooting behind my back, to brace against the bookshelf behind me.

"Mom," I breathe, slumping back against the books, the knuckles of my bracing hand digging into the small of my back.

Mom raises an amused eyebrow and plants her hands firmly on her hips, "What are you looking for in your father's study?"

I guiltily press further back into the bookshelf, "I was just thinking," I talk before Mom can start again —it's always best to gain the advantage in a conversation early, Dad and a peculiar dream of attending something called law school has taught me that, "I was thinking that since the academy starts soon, I should try and get ahead in a few things."

Mom's other eyebrow raises, but at the very least her arms drop from her hips and the tight lines around her eyes ease a bit. Mom and Dad have never really forbidden me from going into Dad's study (unless he's working in there), but they've always been a bit leery about what information I get ahold of —apparently, when my mom says that I'm too observant for my own good, it's something she actually worries about. Lucky for her my curiosity for what she doesn't want me to see in here hasn't yet overwhelmed my fear of her punishments.

Always listen to Mom.

With a grace and ease that I have come to expect from her, Mom crosses the short distance of the room, plucks three books from their places on the shelves, and sweeps me along with her other arm to the small sofa in the corner of the room. There she sits with her hands on top of the books in her lap, giving me an even gaze, the kind that is searching your soul for something.

"The academy is very new Miyo, less than ten years old." Mom has never been one to beat around the bush. "I was trained to be a ninja by my father and he by his." Her hand taps the books in her lap, "You will be the first of this family to attend the academy created by Lord Tobirama." Her gaze, which has never left me, grows sharp again. I feel my spine straighten and my posture correct itself.

"Books were not something we had just laying around to learn by. The art to being a ninja is full of secrets, many of which are still forbidden to be written down lest they fall into the hands of an enemy." My eyes drop to the books momentarily. Once, in another place, maybe in a whole different _time_ , books on all subjects imaginable had been available to anyone who wanted to learn. Is that just a crazy thought, though?

Mom picks up the first of the three books in her lap. It is one I had been looking at when she came in, " _Feuding Times, a History_ ".

"I do not know exactly what the academy teaches. I know its creation was to ensure a certain level of base knowledge and skill for those entering the ninja force." She holds the book out for me to take; which I do carefully. "While you're here," there is no doubt that she means here in our home, "you will learn of your history, to know where you have come from so you can appreciate where you are. Perhaps, this will help to remedy your aversion to violence when you see how necessary it is to our way of life."

I swallow slow and hard. The disapproval in Mom's eyes seems to wrap around the very core of my being, as if it can find the pacifist in my soul and start to constrict it to death (am I really a pacifist, though? Or am I just really, really afraid of pain, giving and receiving? I have no problem fighting verbally). For that matter, the disapproval seems to wrap around Mom's very being, as well. The lines around her eyes tighten and her shoulders tense and raise from their relaxed position. She looks like she's ready to leap up and fight at any second.

No wonder she's a jounin-ninja. Fighting first is her natural reaction to things rather than falling back to protect.

A distant memory (or an old dream?) of a different Mom comes, her long blonde hair shining in the sunlight. We're having a picnic in the park, because picnics were my other dad's (my first dad's?) favorite activity, and since he died, Mom had taken us out to a glade with a wicker basket full of sandwiches at least once a month. Mom was sentimental and kind, though she didn't show it easily. She wasn't a fighter.

I'm not a fighter. At least, not physically.

The memory (dream?) hangs heavy in my mind: the clear blue sky, the bright green grass, the cool breeze that would ruffle Other-Mom's hair, the sun that would glint over her slim, weak form. 'Where I come from,' Mom —the one sitting in front of me— had said. _I don't know where I come from_ , I want to tell her. _That's the problem._

A new lifetime of learning rears its head and I shake off the heavy nostalgia that has no place here.

Always listen to Mom. Always do what Mom says. Always. This is the lesson that matters.

I nod my head with great effort. The tension eases, barely.

A second book is put in my hands, " _Botany of the Fire Nation_ ". "You will learn of your environment, to put it to your advantage and help in your survival on long missions." Botany? Gross, and totally boring. I am not looking forward to this one. I bet it'll involve dirt under my nails, and a real life example of what different poison plants feel like, and how to take care of them while out in the field, just because that's the type of mother my mom is. Yvette will probably also be there, and Mom will probably dote on her for being 'such a natural!' Gag me.

Mom holds the third book up if front of me, but does not let me take it. The title, " _Rules of the Ninja Way_ " is the smallest of the books by far, more like an oversized pamphlet. "This, you will memorize. You will live what it says." Her eyes promise something terrible should I do otherwise. "These are not laws concerning what is to be done in conflicts between ninja, that will come later. For that to be relevant, you must first be a ninja, this book will teach you that."

With hands that have turned clammy, I reach out and take the book from Mom. Though smaller than the other two (maybe only twenty or thirty pages), it's weight feels ten times heavier in my hands. "You will have it memorized before you start at the academy. I expect you to start carrying yourself as a true ninja within a few weeks. You have had a longer childhood than I, Miyo, but the time for it to come to an end is near." My childhood ended years ago in another place, I think. In a dream world that may or may not be real, but is present enough to affect me now.

I stare at the books in hand, digesting what has been said. Mom stands and walks across the room. Silent, always silent. She stops in the doorway for just a moment, but does not turn back.

"In the academy, you will be compared directly with your peers. Do not disappoint your father and me, Miyo."

Before she can leave, a question slips off my tongue, "How far do you want me to go?" Mom looks over her shoulder, one eyebrow partially raised, a silent demand to clarify. I have become very good at reading her body language. "I mean," I go on quickly, Mom does not like to waste time, "do you want me to be a Jounin like you? What if I can't make it that far?"

"I expect," Mom starts slowly, her muscles noticeably tensing along her spine and shoulders, her profile offering a dark frown, "I expect you to use every single ounce of skill you have, Miyo, and nothing less, to get as far as you can go."

Mom walks out of the room, and I'm left with three books and the weight of expectation on my weak, weak (pacifist?) shoulders.

Represent the family? How? By being a cold hearted killing machine that completes missions without error? Am I supposed to aim to be the first female leader of Konoha? Die honorably on a mission so that the shame of being a pacifist no longer haunts my small family? Have a fairly successful career and then marry someone from a notable clan, settle down and be a broodmare for the rest of my childbearing years? The last one makes me shudder (becoming a mom is a commitment. I'm not a fan of commitment), but at least I wouldn't be asked to kill anymore if that was the case.

The study has become dark around me, the sun having set while Mom and I were talking and I was thinking. The tall book shelves loom over me, their dark spines mixing together into shadow. I stand slowly, books safely tucked in my arms and walk toward the door my mom had disappeared through sometime earlier. Represent the family? Mom is a jounin —a very, very successful jounin. Dad… isn't. He...actually, I realize with a frown, I'm not sure what dad's rank is. I'll ask him later. He's less taciturn than Mom, better at explaining things too.

* * *

As promised, the newly edited chapter two. We can tell that you're all very excited. Thanks for sticking with us! We'll see you again one week from today, with the new chapter three.

The Splits


	3. Enemy Territory

Edited and Reposted: 2/1/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Three: Enemy Territory

I shift from sitting cross legged on my bed to sprawling across my sheets on my stomach, I prop " _Rules of the Ninja Way_ " on a pillow so that I can easily read the pages.

"Rule number twenty-five: a ninja must never show their tears," I read out loud. There's one rule per page, followed by a brief bit of history explaining the rule, and there's a total of thirty rules. A quick read, but faintly disturbing in its contents (propaganda, my mind says) , "Rule number twenty-five: a ninja must never show their tears." Repetition is the way to memorization!

All-in-all, memorizing the rules isn't very difficult —memorization in general isn't usually an issue for me. The rules themselves, though… I scowl at the book, "Rule number twenty-six: a ninja must see the hidden meanings within the hidden meanings." What does that even mean, anyways?

Some of the rules just make no sense. My personal favorite that makes no sense? _Rule number three: A ninja must rely on their comrades, but never rely too much on any body._ Rely on people, they say, but no wait! Don't rely on people! I shove my face into my arms and let out the most pathetic groan that I can muster.

The worst rule, though, is rule number thirty, the last rule in the book: _A ninja must purge themselves of all emotion_. Which seems like complete crap, to me. Because ninja everywhere have emotion. My parents have emotion, the ninja I pass on the street have emotion, the _Hokage,_ Lord Tobirama, has emotion. Everyone has emotion!

"Bleh," I mutter into my sheets, swinging my feet through the air. Maybe, if you 'see the hidden meanings within the hidden meanings,' then what that rule really means is to have no emotions while on a mission? But how does one just turn their emotions off? How does that work?

I huff and stretch across the bed, rolling onto my back and purposely knocking the stupid book onto the floor.

"Rule eleven: a ninja must prepare before it is too late," I tell my ceiling. The ninja academy starts tomorrow, and never in my life have I felt such a mix of excitement and nerves. My parents, over the last two months since the last disastrous ninja game, have prepared me as well as they've been able to. Early morning taijutsu practice (focusing on flexibility and dodging instead of straight up combat, at least), hikes into the woods to identify plants that are safe to consume or have medicinal purposes, chakra control exercises, weapons maintenance, and more. In the last two months I've had more exposure to ninja teachings than I ever have.

I still don't feel prepared.

"Rule number twenty-five: a ninja must never show their tears," I repeat again. It's too bad, really. Crying sounds kind of good right now. Cathartic. That was a word, once upon a time, right? Cathartic? Like, the purging of emotion to feel better, or something. I could use some catharsis right now.

A knock startles me out of my thoughts, sending my hand toward the bedside dresser where I keep a kunai on top at all times —in case of emergency, or so my mom says. I twist my body to my feet and bring the kunai up into a guard position in front of my chest.

(A small part of me wants to cringe away from the kunai and its sharp silver edges, but I've been through too much training, now, to hesitate away from a weapon.)

My dad, my sneaky, sneaky dad, is standing at the door. He brings his hands up and slowly starts to clap, "Good reflexes, Little Miyo," I glare and slowly lower the kunai back to the table as he walks in and casually drapes himself across my bed, scooping up the discarded ninja law book on his way. "You should really start trying to enhance your chakra sensing, though," he continues, flipping through the book, "Your reflexes can't save you if your enemy sneaks up on you before you even notice them."

"Rule number eighteen," I dutifully respond, "A ninja must be faster than their enemy."

Dad chuckles —he's in a good mood today, it seems, "Very good, Miyo," he repeats.

I smile and bounce onto the bed next to Dad, "What's up?" I ask.

Dad settles an arm around my shoulders and pulls me snug against his side, setting the book next to the kunai on the table. Of my two parents, my dad is definitely more open to showing emotion (rule number thirty! No emotion!).

"Just checking in, Mi-Mi."

I groan and elbow his side, pretending for the sake of my fragile ego that I hurt him at least a little —if there's one thing about the ninja life style that is definitely a pro, it's the incredibly built bodies that everyone seems to have, even shinobi like my dad, who don't see front line action as much as other, combat oriented ninja (well, I assume, anyway, Dad still won't tell me what he does, after all). Even teeny tiny children like me!

"Don't call me Mi-Mi!"

Dad knocks his shoulder teasingly against mine and playfully pinches the inside of my arm, "When you can beat me in a spar, I'll stop calling you Mi-Mi," he proposes. I elbow him in the side again.

"So, never?" I ask sarcastically. Dad pauses, then pulls me even closer, one hand reaching to tilt my chin up. Our eyes meet, and I feel like he's looking into my soul.

"Miyo," he says, voice serious and eyes still staring into mine. He doesn't seem to know what to say —which is a bit of a miracle, because Dad always knows what to say. Dad always seems to know everything.

"What if I can't do it, Dad?" I ask, nearly desperate to get an answer. My parents have been drilling me in honing my reflexes, probably hoping that if I have enough muscle memory, I won't hesitate anymore. But I don't feel more ninja-ready, and since my mom's parting words about doing my best, with the _or else_ heavily implied, I've been more and more worried about failing.

Failing the academy. Failing my family. Failing life, really.

"What if I can't be a ninja?" I continue when my dad doesn't say anything. The lines around his mouth have tightened, as has his hold on my chin.

Dad sighs and some of the tension has leaked from his shoulders, "You have to be a ninja, Miyo." Dad leans back against the headboard and looks up to the ceiling, an edge of finality in his voice. "You've proven yourself apt at too many ninja arts to be allowed to have a nonmilitant life." Nonmilitant is the name for academy failures —people who fail or drop out of the academy, and so have ninja training, but never gained a ninja rank; as opposed to the people called 'civilian', which refers to someone who has had zero ninja training.

I tense next to my dad, shifting my own eyes to look out across my room to the window. There is a nice, panoramic view of the city there, what with our house being slightly elevated over the city. Konoha is big, sprawling. The tops of the buildings are flat, and as I stare I can faintly pick up the forms of ninja hopping from building to building.

"Listen," Dad says, squeezing my shoulder tight, I turn my eyes back up to him, "Here's what you're going to do, Miyo," Dad looks once again very seriously into my eyes, his free hand crossing his body to pet my hair lightly, caging me in with his arms, "You're going to try your best at the academy, pick up as many skills as you possibly can. If you can't be a killer, you're going to have to make your own way. Prove that you're indispensable."

Dad sounds slightly desperate, but his hands remain gentle. It's now, as I look up into his eyes (eyes that are identical to my own) and feel his protective warmth about me, that I wonder at the seriousness of my situation. It's never made sense to me, why my parents have made such a big deal about me never making a kill in some make-pretend game with other kids, but…

" _You've proven yourself apt at too many ninja arts to be allowed to have a nonmilitant life."_ I've joked to myself plenty about brainwashing and child soldiers, but I've forgotten (in a far corner of my mind) that with those things usually comes an uncompromising, merciless government.

I bring my own hands up and grip my dad's arm tight, "I'll find something, Dad," I murmur —as serious as I've ever been, "And I'll be so good at it, they'll never even _have_ to ask me to kill anyone."

Dad stares at me for a moment longer, before he relaxes with a broad grin. "I don't doubt it, Little Mi-Mi."

Well, there goes the serious mood! "Dad!"

Dad just laughs at me and pulls me into a squeezing hug, "Get some rest, Miyo. Early start tomorrow!" he presses a kiss to my head and stands with a languorous stretch.

"Night, Dad."

Dad leaves the room with one last wave over his shoulder. I slump down into the bed and hug my pillow close to my chest.

" _You've proven yourself apt at too many ninja arts to be allowed to have a nonmilitant life."_

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

Quietly I free myself from the damp sheets on my bed, trying —in vain, probably— not to disturb my parents down the hall. I manage to get to my window without creaking any of the floorboards and I am greeted with a more complete view of the city I call my own.

 _Blood, there's so much blood._

 _Demon! Demon!_

 _The shock manages to numb the pain for a moment, before agony sears through me._

 _Demon!_

I feel my breath leave in a sharp sigh and I lean my head against the window, the hot air from my body fogging up the glass in front of me. My parents, likely awake at the unexpected movement in their house, probably think I'm just nervous about the academy.

That's for the best.

 _A shock of red against white carpet, pain radiating from every nerve, a well dressed demon laughing, laughing._

 _A knife protruding from my chest._

" _Althea!" the call from the man who is supposed to protect me._

 _Devil's laughter lulls me into the gray._

What was that nightmare, I wonder as I focus my gaze beyond the pane of my window to the familiar view of Konoha under the light of the full moon. Even at this time of night, vaguely visible to my sleep-filmed eyes, there are ninja hopping from rooftop to rooftop —a sort of familiar comfort, but it does nothing for the flips my stomach is doing.

The gray —I have no other apt name for that strange place— just the thought of it makes my stomach perform an extra turn. Somewhere like that shouldn't exist. The heaviness of some foreign decision weighing on me like my existence depends on it while I simultaneously feel like my very essence is being stripped from me and replaced with something else. It felt like an excruciating moment drawn out into hundreds of thousands of millions of moments, neverending yet rushing to a conclusion between two points.

My stomach makes another violent flip at the thought of the wrongness of that place (no mortal should remember, let alone know a place like that), and realizing what's coming, I run to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time to throw up.

When I think I can't throw up anymore, I flush the mess away. My face is flushed and my hands clammy.

"Miyo?"

Wiping at my mouth, I don't turn to look. I can't really deal with another person right now.

"Leave me alone," I croak, my throat burning. If it had been Dad, there's no way he would leave me like this. I'm his little girl, but Mom… Mom is better at knowing when I need space than Dad ever will be. We may have our differences, but in this -in needing space- we are so similar it can be rather scary.

The bathroom door closing with a quiet click and leaving me in solitude is her answer, and for once I know that Mom does care, in her own way.

Once I'm sure my legs won't give out under me, I get up and start washing my hands in the sink. No matter how much I scrub, they don't seem to come clean.

Frowning, I glance up at the mirror and freeze. A woman with brown hair and deep brown eyes is staring back at me in pain, her parted lips are bloody. I raise a hand to the mirror, and she does the same, the water dripping from my fingers turns to blood before my eyes.

"Althea," I breathe the strange name out that seems so right and yet so wrong. I'm Miyo, and yet… my eyes travel down to the knife hilt sticking out of her chest. Suddenly, it's there, the sharp pain that I get in my chest whenever I play at being a ninja, and it's worse than ever before.

Gasping, I crumple up over the sink, my stomach flipping violently again making me dry heave as I lay my forehead on the cool marble countertop. How long I stay like this, I don't know. When the pain does finally recede, I stay hunched over even longer, my hands grasping desperately at a wound that isn't there, disgesting what's happening before slowly using the counter to pull myself straight. The water is still running, and I splash some on my face, staring back at me in the mirror now is my own reflection (light blue hair, gray eyes, whole and clean) looking red-eyed and exhausted.

"It's a lie," I tell myself.

More of my strange dream, or nightmare I should say, comes back to me.

" _Ms. Jackson," the federal agent in front of me smoothly steps up to my desk._

" _Agent Jensen," I nod in recognition, standing to meet him with a firm shake of the hand._

 _The agent nods back and gestures toward the man who had come into my office beside him, "This is Agent Alec Sieg, he'll be your security detail tonight." Agent Sieg is tall, dark skinned, and incredibly handsome with sharp features and a confident baring. The epitome of tall, dark and handsome, really. I suppose he won't be such a pain to have skulking around the house._

" _Ma'am." I shake the proffered hand and smile up at the man who is to be my bodyguard for the evening. Ma'am wasn't something I heard often. A fed with manners, then._

" _I hope you won't get too bored around the house," I say, "When working a case, if I'm not prepping I usually just sit around and knit."_

 _Agent Sieg shakes his head seriously, "I'm only there for your safety, Ma'am," he assures, "don't worry about me."_

The scene shifts, and I catch sight of a sharply dressed demon ( _demon, there's a demon in my room, a demon a demon a demon_ ), knife poised delicately in one hand.

My own hand, still damp, rubs against my aching sternum.

I stare at my reflection, brown and blue hair dancing in my vision. "It's a lie, a dream," I whisper.

A sharp ache once more lances through my sternum, I press a hand flat against my chest, still staring into my own eyes —gray or brown? Althea or Miyo?

"It's a lie…"I tell myself again, but, while it all seems like a dream in my head, saying it outloud sounds wrong. "No," I murmur, "It's only a lie if I can prove it." Which… doesn't seem quite right. I'm not going to try and prove that my dreams are just dreams. What a waste of time.

Shaking my head, to get rid of the ridiculous thoughts, I turn off the water and I rub my hands and face dry with a towel. Shutting off the light, I creep back down the hall to my bedroom, keeping one hand on the wall for support and guidance in the dark. With an exhausted body and mind I crawl back under my covers. I don't dream again that night.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

There is no ceremony when we arrive at the academy, my parents simply leave me at the gate, my Mom's warning to do my best, and my promise to my dad to find something I excel at ringing in the back of my mind as I gather up with the rest of the new students.

Rule number twenty nine states that a ninja must never abandon their comrades in enemy territory. I have to admit, I'm feeling pretty abandoned right now. I glance around at the pristine school and the well manicured yards, the trying-to-be-serious faces of the kids around me and the very, very strict visage of the man gathering us together. Yep, I'm definitely in enemy territory, or at least my tired brain thinks so. Stupid weird dream.

The strict man has plain features except for the rather prominent scar on his left cheek. My guess is that he is one of the instructors, if not _our_ instructor.

"Alright, students!" the strict man suddenly barks out. I straighten up immediately. That is the voice of a man who doesn't say anything twice and expects you to simply jump as high as you can when he gives the order. "Form a straight line!" A strange image of heavily muscled men in strict, neutral colored uniforms swims through my mind, but I shake it off as I get in line behind a boy with a heavy coat on that has a collar covering the lower half of his head —a strange choice for the wild weather, but I've long since given up on trying to understand how fashion and ninja practicality mix.

The man escorts us into the building, quickly silencing anyone who tries to talk with a sharp bark of, "Absolutely no talking, students!" A part of this seems familiar to me, an old routine of fold your arms, close your mouths, stay in line, and walk on the right side of the hall.

The classroom he leads us to seems to be a little on the large size, with five rows of desks meant to seat three people each, sitting on increasingly elevated platforms as you get closer to the back of the room. I observe the room for a moment, trying to imagine myself in one of the desks for the next three years. I can't quite manage it.

The strict man, who still hasn't introduced himself, has us line up in the front of the room, backs to the familiar looking boards pinned on the wall.

Starting with the first kid in line, the man asks for our names, and then points us out to a specific seat while marking something on a clipboard. I'm in the middle-ish of the line, towards the end, so I have plenty of time to watch my classmates as they give their names and take their seats. The only ones who really stand out to me in the process are a set of twins near the front of the line, but that is only because they are twins, identical twins. I don't think they have a single hair of difference between them, down to their strange, pupil-less eyes. Hyuga, then.

The twins are placed in the middle section, three rows back out of five, and I can't help but steal glances toward them, trying to pick apart differences between the two. I think it would be a good personal goal, to try and tell them apart by the end of the year. Mom does always say that I'm super observant. Time to prove it.

Soon, I notice that the kid in front of me with the coat has been called up and told to sit front and center, right in front of where I imagine the teacher will be lecturing. Poor kid. I'm motioned forward with a sharp wave of the strict man's arm.

"Name?" the man asks. I can see now that I'm up close to him that he has other faint scars besides the prominent one on his cheek. His eyes are brown just like his short hair.

"Miyo Nakamura," I tell him, trying to catch a glimpse of his clipboard. He nods, writes something down, and then points to a seat while, oh so casually, bringing the clipboard up to his chest. I try not to pout.

"Middle section, second row from the back, third seat over." I find my seat quickly. Behind me is a boy with black hair and coal black eyes, a clan symbol appears to be on the sleeve of his shirt in the shape of a fan —Uchiha. In front of me are the identical twins from earlier. Stepping in between the two kind of feels like stepping between rabid dogs. The Uchiha is glaring hotly down at the twins with a fierce scowl on his face, and the two Hyuga are sending serious vibes of 'touch me and die.' They also seem to be glaring through the back of their heads toward the other clan heir.

Which isn't creepy at all, no sir.

I sit down with supreme reluctance and slouch down in my seat, trying to stay away from the line of fire between the three clansmen. The other two seats in my row are still empty. I wish I could sit in one of them instead.

I watch as the rest of the students are directed to their places, feeling more and more jumpy as I'm boxed in, other students sitting on my left and right, leaving me trapped in between the increasingly tense Uchiha and Hyuga.

There really isn't anything to distract me from my situation. The strict man is still directing the last few students, the walls are depressingly white, and from my vantage point all I can see out the windows is the sky. I slump even further into my seat.

The strict man finally sends the last student to their seat and glares all of us down. I can't help but to straighten a bit under his derisive stare. "Your teacher will be here in a moment. Don't move, don't talk, don't break any rules," he orders and then stalks out of the room. I half expected him to order us not to breathe.

I stare at the door the strict man escapes through and have to fight off a frown. He never introduced himself! Plus, what was on that stupid clipboard? Not a seating arrangement, I managed to glimpse that much. Also, what in the world was the point of him leading us here if he's not our actual teacher?

The class remains quiet for a minute or two, but by the fifth minute with no teacher in sight, rustlings start to be heard. I watch as students eye each other and shift more in their seats. Really, I think, it's only a matter of time before one of the more brave, rambunctious students breaks the silence.

My prediction comes true. I watch as an Inuzuka kid —you can tell because of the facial markings and the rather obvious puppy dog panting happily at his feet— is the first one to crack. I wonder if this is a pressure reaction sort of test? Maybe someone has a way to watch us? I eye the chalkboard critically. Maybe there are seals on it that make it seethrough from the opposite side, and our teacher is watching us from the other side of the wall?

I shake my head. Maybe this academy thing or my lack of sleep is making me too paranoid.

"What's taking so long?" Inuzuka asks, impatience coating his voice, his face scrunched up in distaste. The little dog at his feet barks in agreement. Or, it sounds like the dog barks in agreement. I spare a thoughtful glance at the little puppy and wonder just how smart the little nindog is. I know that some animal-partners are capable of speech, but I don't know if that's something you can train, or if the nin-animal is born knowing how.

"We're not supposed to talk!" the little girl next to him hisses. She has no obvious clan markings, but is dressed in sensible ninja clothes, so she's probably not a first generation ninja. That, or her family has connections to a ninja willing to give them advice.

Obvious civilian children do litter the classroom, though. There is a cloying scent of perfume in the air that probably belongs to the little girl near the window that's wearing an expensive looking necklace and jewel toned dress.

"Stop talking, then!" the Inuzuka breaks me from my thoughts. He and the little girl are almost nose to nose, hissing at each other. Any closer and they'd be kissing.

I was right —as soon as the Inuzuka and little girl start really going at it, tossing insults at each other and each other's families (apparently the little girl is from the Mori family, a minor ninja clan like mine), the other kids break and start whispering amongst themselves.

I prop my elbows up on the table in front of me, and then rest my head on my hands, content to watch the show (and trying to ignore the tension that is _still_ permeating between the three clan members in front of and behind me —will I ever get a break from these kids?).

The only students that remain silent are kids from the major ninja clans (well, except the Inuzuka and his adorable puppy), like the Uchiha behind me, the Hyuga twins in front of me, a girl slumped over her desk by the window (a Nara, maybe), a few randomly scattered students, and what looks like the kid I was standing behind in the line with the heavy coat. A brief glimpse of his profile when he looks toward the window shows dark sunglasses resting on his nose —after a moment of thought, I decide that he's probably an Aburame. You can never really tell with that clan, though. Depending on the type of bug they're hosting, they all dress and act differently.

The loud (and very rude, shouldn't soon-to-be-ninja be more considerate to those of us with better senses?) spectacle continues for a few more minutes before the classroom door is opened with a bang.

I'm responding before I can even think about it, swiping a kunai from the holster on my thigh and jumping to my feet toward the source of the bang. Silence reigns. I can see the Hyuga twins and the boy with the heavy coat and glasses also standing, weapons ready. I can feel the sudden sharp intent from the Uchiha and his deskmate coming from behind me, and I figure that I've got people competent enough to watch my back. Standing at the door, eyebrows raised and clipboard in hand is a man. The same clipboard, I realize with dawning embarrassment, that the strict man had left with. Oh.

There is a ringing silence as students glance between those of us who are standing, ready to fight, and the teacher. I can feel my face heating up. To help me prepare for the academy, my parents had drilled my reflexes, and their favorite way of doing so was by loudly entering rooms I was in and then attacking me. "A test of my reaction time," they would call it. "Paranoia training 101," I would respond.

"Very nice reflexes," the man finally voices dryly as he notates something on the clipboard (Nothing bad I hope. Reacting to threats is a good thing, right?), "Sit." We very sheepishly sit. Well, I very sheepishly sit. The Hyuga twins sit very elegantly, and I don't have the right vantage point to watch anyone else, but the whole thing feels very sheepish.

"You were told," the man continues with his dry-as-the-desert voice as he strides toward the middle of the room, "To be silent."

Well, there is certainly silence now. All us students are mute as we stare down at the man. He is an older gentleman, with lily-white skin marred with scars and wrinkles both, and he has dark purple hair cut short against his scalp.

"I am chunin Ryusei Abe. You will call me Professor Abe or Chunin Abe. I will be your teacher for your time here at the Academy. The rules are as follows," Professor Abe's stern eyes roll over all of us students, "You will be silent unless asked to speak. You will raise your hand if you have a question. There will be no rough housing or fighting of any kind in this classroom. If you are late in the mornings, do not bother to show up at all. Homework is to be handed in on time and finished completely. Practice outside of class is required. Am I clear?"

The class, bonded together by faint terror and a need to prove ourselves, answer as one, "Yes, Professor Abe."

Professor Abe's lips stretch into a faint grin that is more terrifying than comforting. "Good," he practically purrs.

See what I mean about being abandoned in enemy territory? My parents should be ashamed of themselves.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

Halfway through the day, a woman comes to interrupt our class. She is a pretty thing, petite with long dark brown hair done up in a fashionable style, a face dolled up to perfection, and an outfit that reveals just enough. A picture of beauty and grace with a dash of allure. It's impressive to say the least.

"Excuse me, but I'm here to collect the girls," she speaks in a smooth voice that makes a person want to listen. Our instructor gives a quick nod and a shooing motion to the six girls in class, including myself.

"Girls," Professor Abe's dry voice crackles over the room, "Leave."

I waste no time in making my way down to her. I'm the last one as I have the seat farthest from the door of all the girls, so I make the end of the line as we walk out of the room, following the woman who leads us through the halls and down a set of stairs to what I assume is the basement. She opens a door, and I'm instantly hit with the smell of incense and perfume, thick and heavy. The woman ushers us each through the door before closing it behind me and making her way to the front of the small room.

Unlike the strict, empty feeling of the classroom we had just come from, this room is full of flowers, trunks, vanities with mirrors line the wall, the light comes from candles that are dimmed, and the mood if I had to put a name to it, was overall sensual. Large fluffy pillows adorn the floor, and the woman arranges herself gracely on the largest and most adorned of them all after we have claimed our own seats. Mine is white with embroidered black embellishments along its seams.

"Welcome to kunoichi classes," she speaks softly, Mom would like her. I can feel a sense of calm overtaking me, and it's all I can do to drink in her words. "My name is Hanami Tachibana, please call me Hanami. Here, I will be instructing the six of you in arts that have been passed from woman to woman for years. How to ensnare the senses, secure positions of gain, pass messages to allies while maintaining your cover, sneak secrets from the beds of men, and, when it is deemed necessary, silently end those who would thwart your mission."

It all sounded amazing, except for the last part, but she did say only when necessary, so maybe it wasn't very often that killing was required. Maybe, if one became good enough at the other skills, the need to kill would never arise because you could trick or persuade others into accomplishing what was needed without killing. It is a slim chance, I know, but a slim chance is all I can really expect in this world full of carnage, and this woman before me is offering it to me, so I cling to every word that leaves her lips.

"This year is the only year you are required to take this class," she continues, I can feel the relief that is rolling off of two or three of the other girls (it makes me wonder if chakra shifts with your emotions, something to think about later), "but you may choose to continue on in the following two years as well. It is coming to the point that more girls seek to join men on the battlefield than play the dangerous and complex games of subterfuge that our gender has played for generations." Hanami's eyes rove over us, perhaps it is my imagination, but they seem to linger on me a moment longer than the others. Can she tell that I am interested, desperate for a way to avoid the fighting, the killing?

It may have simply been a trick of the light, but I thought, just maybe, that the corner of her lip turned slightly upwards in a smile at me. It was over in an instant though, and Hanami's lulling effect is gone as she instantly becomes more business like.

"Since I have but a short time with most of you, there is little time to waste. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after lunch you will reconvene here with me and I will do my utmost to fill your heads with all the knowledge I can."

Rising from her cushion, Hanami glides, for I can hardly call such graceful movement walking, over to her desk where she retrieves a thick book and a sheaf of folded paper. Returning to us, Hanami moves her cushion to the side and proceeds to unfold the sheaf of paper and tack it the board she had been sitting in front of. When Hanami finally moves out of the way so that the six of us can see what she has put up, it is all I can do to not make an outward sign of distress.

Before us, taped to the board, is a detailed picture of the male and female reproductive systems. I sink down and resist the urge to cover my face with my hands (an urge a few of the other girls don't conquer as well as I do).

"We will begin our first lesson," Hanami says, ignoring the reactions of us girls, I think she might actually be enjoying the varying levels of discomfort, "by learning the differences between you girls and the boys, so that you can better understand many of the purposes behind kunoichi classes."

* * *

Annnnnd our edited chapters are now half way done. Thanks for sticking with us!


	4. Puppet Play

Edited and reposted: 2/8/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Four: Puppet Play

I lean my head against the trunk of the tree and sigh, swinging my legs. I'm in a little field that sits just behind the ninja academy and things are peaceful. At least, they are for now. It helps that it's about an hour before class will start and I'm here alone.

" _Miyo! It's been two years since you started the academy!"_ Mom's voice rings in my ears —she's become much more stressed, lately. Maybe because of me, maybe because of her job, maybe a lot of things that I'm not privy to. " _You spend all day training your chakra and your_ support _skills,"_ derision had practically leaked from her words. I hadn't been able to say anything. Hadn't been able to look away from her mad, disappointed, aggrieved eyes. " _When will you get it through your head that preparing to take a life —is —important."_

I fold my hands into neat seals and concentrate. Two branches up, about four meters to my left, with a rotation of about 60 degrees, target of replacement: a dead leaf. A poof of smoke and I'm sitting on a new branch. I swing my legs and contemplate my position for a moment. Two branches up, yes, but I'm closer to the trunk than I had anticipated, and I didn't make the full rotation. I'm straddling the branch instead of sitting across it, like I had been aiming for. I swing my leg over the branch. Gotta keep practicing, I guess.

I sigh and wave my hand through the air, trying to blow away some of the smoke from the replacement. Mom and Dad —they've done their best, really. They try. I know they do. And they care. They totally care, but—

" _You're going to get yourself and your future team killed, stupid girl!"_ —but Mom's version of caring sounds an awful lot like shame. I know better though, Mom lost a teammate a few months back when the amount of ninja being sent out of the village had doubled, and she hasn't been the same since. We've been arguing a lot more. I think it's how Mom expresses her grief, arguing, being more of a demanding perfectionist than usual. It means I get to hear a lot more commonly just how great my cousin Yvette is and how weird and wrong I am.

I spot a new target. Three branches down, two meters to my right, on the other side of the trunk, 180 degree rotation, replacement target: moving bug. This one will be more difficult. Here's for hoping the cute little bug makes it through this okay —I don't want the Aburame clan on my case. I fold my hands through the seals again, taking my time to feel how my chakra folds with it. Starting with tiger: a seal of movement, it makes my chakra practically buzz with energy. Boar: a seal of strength, added with tiger, I feel my chakra coat my entire musculature system, ready for quick and extreme movement. Ox, dog, snake. Each added seal twists my chakra further, like completing a jigsaw puzzle. I hold the final seal as I picture the little bug and my intended landing position. A puff of smoke and I'm gone.

I fight the instinct to close my eyes through the harsh rush of wind and the sharp sting of the smoke. Success. Three branches down, 180 degree rotation, once again closer to the trunk than I had intended (a subconscious nervous habit?). A glance around the tree shows a scurrying, freaked out little bug; very much alive.

I had ran out the first moment I could, this morning. Mom's arms had been folded over her chest and Dad had been silently leaning on the wall next to us —not saying anything, but he seemed heavy with disappointment. Perhaps it's a figment of my imagination, I have enough of those, but even when you factor out the death of Mom's teammate, things have been getting more tense at home.

It's not that I want to let my parents down, I've tried to practice taking a life, it just doesn't work. Even as I think about it, the demon's laughter fills my ears, and my other brain supplies a strange smell to my nose that it likes to call french vanilla. Whatever that is. And then there's the stab of pain in my chest, and blood, so much blood. On my hands, on my chest, in my mouth, dribbling down my lips.

I shift slightly, digging my fingers into the branch, the bark creaking in protest. I focus on controlling my breathing, flowing chakra through my body, and clearing my mind. Professor Tachibana taught the girls this meditation technique last year, and it's become a sort of lifeline to me when my _other_ mind becomes too much.

So, I ran out this morning, and I'll apologize when I get home, and the awkward balance of 'let's just not talk about it' will prevail once again.

I sit up straight, folding my hands once again through the right seals —tiger, boar— when I spot Hiashi and Hizashi crossing through the front gate that I can only barely see from here. They're trailed by a younger branch family member of indeterminate gender that immediately separates themselves from the twins and makes their way toward a pack of smaller kids (when exactly did people start showing up?!).

I let myself slowly slump back down on the branch, shaking out my arms and flexing my fingers a bit before jumping from branch to branch toward the ground (the tree I had managed to climb was really quite tall). At this point, I'm pretty proficient at using chakra to stick myself to things —chakra control isn't the hard part, it's drawing the chakra out of my chakra coils in the first place that's difficult— so it's a cinch to land on the ground (except I had almost slipped half-way down, but since I didn't actually fall, it doesn't really count).

I pick up the weapons pouch I had stashed in the roots of the tree (that my mom would kill me for taking off in the first place) and start to jog toward my friends.

Because I'm not a rude person, I don't yell to catch the twins' attention; instead, I flare my chakra a bit. Almost every pair of eyes in the courtyard turns toward me. I sheepishly smile at Hizashi and Hiashi as I catch up to them, giving them a small wave.

"Is everyone that good at chakra sensing, or did I let out a lot more than I meant to?" I ask.

The brothers exchange amused looks and the closest twin, Hizashi (you can tell it's him because of his wrapped forehead, hiding his seal —that stupid seal took all the fun out of guessing which twin was which, not to mention the _unbelievable_ amount of tension between the twins after it had appeared), turns to look at me as we reach the academy doors.

"It's more like you spread your chakra out through the whole courtyard, instead of just toward us," he explains, his voice just as cool and emotionless as usual, but I can see the skin around his eyes tighten a bit in amusement, "Now everyone probably knows that you have a larger chakra reserve than you've been letting on."

I wrinkle my nose and stick my tongue out a bit, trying to wordlessly express my disgruntlement toward that idea as we enter our classroom. Hiashi glances toward me and gives me a quelling, icy look. I wrinkle my nose further at him. Poor, repressed Hyuga don't take very kindly to any emotional displays.

The twins climb the stairs toward our seats ahead of me. Our seats, the classroom, and our teachers have remained the same since that first day in the academy. It's kind of like being stuck in purgatory for two years, where nothing ever changes. And, as usual, Fugaku has somehow arrived before us and is seated primly at his desk, watching Hizashi and Hiashi with an imperious eyebrow raised and his nose upturned the slightest bit.

"Heir Hyuga, Hyuga," he sniffs before turning his eyes toward me. His expression doesn't warm, exactly, but the pure 'you're dirt beneath my feet' aura that he's got going on softens a bit to 'Hello, tolerable peon,' "Miyo," he nods.

I sigh and nod back to the Uchiha heir, "Heir Uchiha," I greet somewhat wryly —it's okay for him to use my first name, I'm a nobody, but I'm too lowly in the ninja clan hierarchy to greet my friend with _his_ first name. That has to be saved for a 'less formal' setting, whatever that means. I swear, my friends are all posh weirdos. I settle down on my chair in front of Fugaku and the Hyuga brothers settle in front of me. We sit silently, and half tensely (seriously, the animosity between the three boys has only gotten worse over the years). If I didn't know any better, I would think that they weren't friends.

It's a good thing that I know better.

Besides the four of us, Yuma Inuzuka (with his adorable dog, Jerens) is the only other student here this early. I, with years of practice, ignore the creepy Hyuga twins glaring through the backs of their creepy heads toward the equally as glaring, but less creepy, Fugaku, and instead I make bets with myself as to who will be the next person through the door.

I've been watching my fellow students as closely as I can, these last few years, half in an effort to understand the mentality of other people my age, and half in an effort to stave off my boredom. Whatever the reason I started doing it for, it's been a fun game every morning to see if I can successfully guess who will come through the door next.

In fact, it's this very game that got me my first, bonafide friends in this life. My only life. Stupid other brain.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

 _It's only been about a month since the academy started, and I swear that things have only gotten more boring and more intimidating at the same time. Professor Abe both scares me and tortures me with his dry voice and equally dry lessons. Which may not fully be his fault because I've got an excellent memory and a short attention span. Not a great combination for school lectures._

 _I sigh and slump down in my chair —a vain attempt at avoiding the tension between the Hyuga twins in front of me and the Uchiha heir behind me. Professor Abe hasn't arrived yet, and only a small portion of the class is also present._

 _I side eye the kids as I feel the chakra presence of another student approaching (I know it's not Professor Abe, because I can never feel him before he comes). Inuzuka and Aburame have already arrived, as well as the snobby rich civilian girl that sits next to the window._

" _Kobayashi," I murmur to myself when I can feel the chakra presence reach the classroom door. I don't know the other students' chakra signatures well enough to tell who it is from that, but that isn't the point of this anyways. Ninja can hide their signatures, after all. No, this was a game of trying to figure out everyone's habits and personalities._

 _The door opens and, sure enough, Kobayashi walks through the door. The poor, besotted boy heads immediately toward Rass, the rich snobbish girl, figurative hearts in his eyes. Score one for me! I turn back toward the door and can feel three chakra signatures coming in together… or is that four chakra signatures? Something else to work on, then._

 _I can feel my brow furrow as I bite my lip. There are a few groups of students that have already made fast friends, but this group seems to be walking pretty slowly and they linger at the door. So, civilian raised, maybe?_

" _Watanabe… Matsumoto…" Who else would those two walk in with that would arrive this early? I don't have time to guess before the door opens. Watanabe, a slim green haired boy, and Matsumoto, a large red haired boy walk in together, their heads turned toward Ito and Reese behind them._

 _I shift my head to rest on my fist and frown at the group, "Ito and Reese, really?" I ask myself. Watanabe and Matsumoto are definitely civilian raised, while Ito and Reese both come from a small line of ninja. I had no idea that they even talked to each other._

" _What are you doing?" A voice asks from behind me. I jump a bit and turn toward the Uchiha, who has definitely not spared me one iota of attention before this. Fugaku Uchiha has his hands folded neatly on the desk and his eyebrow is raised under his slightly messy bangs, his eyes fixed on me._

 _I stare at him for a moment, wondering why he cares. I also wonder how he even noticed me over his concentrated hatred and simmering disapproval of the Hyuga twins, "I'm guessing who'll come through the door next," I tell him, "For instance," I gesture toward the door —whoever is coming is walking fast, but jilted, like they keep tripping over their feet, "that's probably Ikeda."_

 _Uchiha and I both turn toward the door, because I'm smooth and of course it opens as I finish talking. Ikeda, a small, nervous girl with diplomat parents stumbles through the door._

" _Hn," I hear the Uchiha grunt from behind me. I have to suppress a smug grin._

" _Chakra sensing is not that impressive," one of the twins in front of me cuts in, derision leaking from his words. I let the angry tone roll off my back, knowing that it probably has more to do with Uchiha's involvement than it has anything to do with me personally. Both twins turn in their seats and glare back at Uchiha and me._

" _Anyone can memorize chakra signatures," the twin on the left continues, a small sneer on his lips. I can practically feel Uchiha behind me gear up for a fight —anything to put down a Hyuga, I suppose? I talk before he can say anything, though._

" _I haven't memorized any chakra signatures, nor do I want to," I assure, glancing between the twins and shifting so that the Uchiha heir is in my periphery as well, "I'm trying to memorize everyone's personalities and how that affects their habits, like how they walk or when they arrive at school." I watch as the twins exchange looks and I can see Uchiha shift slightly in his seat._

 _I shrug at the boys and glance around the classroom, taking stock of who arrived while I was talking, and then I turn my attention toward the slow, dragging chakra signature in the hallway. Whoever it is, they seem to be leaning into the wall as they walk, but the chakra signature isn't sluggish and unfocused like a civilian's, so, "Nara," I tell my small audience._

 _The door opens just as slowly as the person had walked, and Noriyo Nara seems to pull herself into the classroom, her feet dragging on the floor._

 _There's another group of three or four… or maybe five students now lingering in the hall. "Mori's group of friends," to my surprise it's the Hyuga twin on the right that says this. His white eyes are fixed on the door, but it doesn't look like his byakugan is activated, which is good, because I have a firm no cheating policy._

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"Totally Aburame first," I tell my friends. The rules have changed a bit since I first started. Now, since we've known each other and our classmates for so long, sensing chakra signatures at all is against the rules, so we have to shut down our senses and just take a guess as to who the next student to arrive will be, even if we aren't allowed to feel them coming (we had to stop augmenting our hearing with chakra a year ago, after Fugaku, the sneaky kid, had started memorizing the sound each student makes as they walk. Who _does_ that?).

"Then Rass," Hiashi offers.

"No," Fugaku refutes from behind me, "Aburame then Kobayashi, Rass is too annoyed with Kobayashi's mooning lately, she'll arrive later than normal."

I consider this, ignoring Hiashi's offended huff, "Rass is too afraid of arriving after Professor Abe to come late," I tell Fugaku, eyes on the door, "Maybe Aburame, then Kobayashi, then Watanabe's group, and maybe Rass will try and show up with Ikeda?"

"Ikeda and Rass don't get along, female solidarity or not," Hizashi chimes in, Hiashi nodding his agreement, "If anything, Rass will wait to come in with Mori's group," Hizashi finishes. Before any of us can offer any more ideas, the door swings smoothly open and Shibi Aburame walks through in his characteristic heavy coat and dark sunglasses, hands stuffed into his pockets. He nods toward us and we solemnly nod back toward the clan heir.

We watch Aburame sit at his desk before Hiashi turns back toward me, a thoughtful frown on his face, "Rass has been putting up with Kobayashi for two years and has always arrived at around the same time," he tells us seriously, "I still think that she'll be the next to arrive."

Behind me, Fugaku gives an insulting sort of harrumph and we all turn back to the door, waiting for it to open. The minutes that pass, pass in silence, the four of us staring intently at the door. Thinking about it objectively, we probably freak out the people walking through. I mean, how weird would that be, to go to your classroom, only to find members of two of Konoha's most prominent and powerful clans, as well as their weird pacifist (a label I just can't seem to escape) friend, all staring at you.

It would definitely freak me out.

I straighten a bit in attention as the door opens once again. Rass _and_ Kobayashi walk through. Rass has her arms folded defensively over her chest and she's walking fast, trying to get away from Kobayashi, no doubt.

"Huh," I grunt, eyeing the two as Kobayashi follows Rass to her window seat, "Probably should have guessed that one," I tell the boys.

"Hn," Fugaku grunts in agreement —well, I assume its agreement. Who really knows? The best way to deal with Fugaku Uchiha without getting too stressed is to assign your own meaning to his monosyllabic grunts and move on with your life.

The boys and I continue trying to guess the order of people coming through the door. I'm quite proud to notice that I get it right the most today. The boys and I are usually about evenly tied in this game of mine.

Professor Abe glides into the classroom exactly as the clock strikes the new hour. He's such a punctual man, our Professor.

"Spar day today," he announces in his usual succinct way. The class shuffles a bit and straightens in their chairs, me included. Spar day: my most hated activity that we're forced to participate in. "First up: Hizashi Hyuga and Uchiha vs. Nara and Nakamura. Everyone get to the training grounds."

I slump into my seat for a moment and groan lowly under the scraping of chairs as students stand. Fugaku, the secretly wonderful friend that he is, pauses by my side to lay a hand on my shoulder, squeezing in an effort to give me comfort.

I pull myself out of my chair and follow the rush of students out the door, avoiding Professor Abe's piercing eyes on my way out. Noriyo Nara waits for me at the door, and together we walk toward the sparring grounds, and what I'm sure will be my doom. So much for being able to avoid any awkward confrontations with my parents today, there's no way we're going to win this one and _that_ will _definitely_ make them upset.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

Stillness is key. Muscle control is key to stillness. Practice brings poise, and poise brings control. I repeat this to myself, over and over again as I prepare to fight my friends.

The world around me is silent, not even the birds chirping. Next to me, Noriyo stands in her characteristic lazy, languid slouch —a slouch that all Nara seem to share. Across from us, one hundred paces away or so, are Hizashi and Fugaku. We stand in a large, rough square, our classmates surrounding us a good distance away, marking the border of our skirmish.

Fighting with a partner is different than attacking alone. When you fight alone, you keep track of yourself, your environment, and your enemies. When you fight with a partner or a squad or an army, what you have to keep track of seems to exponentially expand. What is your partner doing? Do they need help? Where are their attacks hitting? Are you in the way? I sink lower in my stance, tensing my legs and trying to find a sturdy, balanced position as I look between Noriyo and our assigned enemies. Honestly, it's no wonder most famous ninja have solo careers.

Also, why can't we ever spar on nice, soft, comfy grass? Why is it always fields of dirt with these people?

Hizashi's eyes betray nothing, but a half flick of the eye and a small, almost unnoticeable hand gesture from Fugaku gives away the Hyuga's target: Noriyo. The Uchiha for me, then. A glance at Noriyo and a preassigned signal from her tells me to go with Plan F. I twitch my nose in acceptance, half rolling my eyes as I look back to the boys across from us. Of course the stupid amount of time Noriyo has forced me to go over battle tactics with her in kunoichi classes isn't actually useless. Of course.

I'll never hear the end of this from Noriyo.

Fugaku's fingers twitch —he'll be the first to break. Hizashi is too patient to move first, Noriyo too lazy, and me...well, I'm Professor Abe's most frustrating student for a reason. Even now, in the beginning of my last year in the academy, I am still avoiding killing or even the pretense of it.

Breath in. Breath out. In and out. Betray nothing. Trust Noriyo, but not too much! Stupid ninja rule number three.

A minute passes in tense silence. Two minutes. I'm too well trained at this point to feel any sort of physical exertion in standing completely still and tense, and I'm too reluctant to start this fight, so instead I shift my gaze to Fugaku. Dear, sweet, highly impatient, ego ridden Fugaku.

Fugaku's sharingan is activated, one tomoe swirling around in each of his eyes —which, heh, I may have freaked out when I first saw. But the past is the past! The important thing to note here, is that Fugaku is the epitome of alpha male: large and in charge! Direct eye contact will construe as a challenge to whatever authority he thinks he has… or be pretty suicidal when (if) he obtains the ability to cast genjutsu with his eyes like his clan is known for. Then, no eye contact. Ever. But for now? Totally works.

It doesn't take long for Fugaku's hands to tighten around his kunai or for his stance to settle just an increment lower as I stare him down. His face, as expected, gives nothing away about his imminent attack, how to hide our emotions and control our responses to stimuli is one of the first things we learned at the academy. I've learned to watch people's body movements instead. Especially their hands and core muscles.

Another second passes before Fugaku shifts his center of balance on top of his dominant leg. Show time.

In a rehearsed sort of way (no seriously, we rehearse this stuff) Fugaku and Hizashi kick off at the same time, both throwing kunai toward —me? Their signs earlier were decoys then. Clever. I jump toward Noriyo, deftly plucking one of the incoming kunai out of the air and I throw it toward Hizashi's legs, which he easily dodges. In less than a second I'm standing about three strides in front of Noriyo, right on top of the head of her shadow.

In a sort of sixth sense, chakra manifestation sort of way I feel Noriyo's shadow shift and cling to mine. Like a puppet, my arms raise without my permission and I meet Hizashi and Fugaku head on. Plan F, here we go.

Both boys are better than Noriyo and I at taijutsu, there's no getting around that. But Noriyo is a Nara, and all Nara are practically bred to preside over battles —you can tell by the way they all play shogi _all the time_. So instead of individually trying to face each of the _way_ over-trained clansmen, Noriyo will play general and direct me, her lowly pawn, across the battlefield until such a tactic is no longer suitable. Her words, not mine.

I duck (or Noriyo forces me to duck, whichever) Hizashi's hands as I forcibly grasp Fugaku's arm, using chakra to keep a better grip. I dodge a second jab from Hizashi and throw Fugaku into his teammate before releasing his arm and lashing out with a quick, wide high kick. Fugaku, pushed away from his teammate, only just manages to block my kick with his forearm.

Noriyo once again guides me away from Hizashi's quick hands (gentle fist? More like cripple fist. No way do I want those hands anywhere near my tenketsu, thank you very much). A backflip later has us all staring each other down again, our brief greetings over.

It doesn't matter how much we practice it, the feeling of my limbs moving without my brain telling them to never loses its strangeness, I think as my hand falls to my weapons holster. I have to be careful not to fight Noriyo's control though, or I'll end up a sitting duck. It doesn't change the fact that I don't like how she holds kunai as my fingers wrap around one.

That's all the breather that the boys give us as Fugaku rushes in, sharingan trained on Noriyo. He can probably see the minute time delay between Noriyo's original movements and mine. Try as I might, I can't surrender complete control to her, but to the normal eye it's almost unnoticeable.

We sweep a low kick, simultaneously throwing our kunai. Mine flies wide of Hizashi, but Noriyo's heads straight for Fugaku who jumps up to dodge the low kick. Like it's child's play, (which it literally is —learning kunai tricks are all pre-academy students do in their free time, besides play ninja) he catches the kunai through the loop, allows it to spin around his finger once and then tosses it directly downwards at me. Lucky for me, Noriyo seems to have anticipated this and moves me out of the way with a quick side motion that leaves the kunai stuck point first in the dirt where I previously was.

Hizashi is there waiting though. Curse all the fancy eyes around here. Seriously! You can't pull the wool over anyone's eyes around here since they'll just see through it. Literally. The wind from Hizashi's swipe whistles over my face as Noriyo bends me back to dodge. If I was any less flexible, I'm pretty sure my spine would have snapped right then and there.

I don't think plan F is going so well. Noriyo seems to have other ideas though as I whip back up, hands seamlessly snagging two throwing stars from my thigh holster and snapping them aggressively at Hizashi's chest. Part of me is glad when he dodges. Ninja culture or not, I don't like hurting my friends.

Suddenly, my hands are up in a defensive position as I begin to block and dodge invisible blows. Fugaku. I can't turn my head, but he must be engaging Noriyo in hand-to-hand. I'm pretty sure I just look ridiculous. Not to mention, blocks that work against the Uchiha taijutsu style don't always make for great blocks against the gentle fist which Hizashi quickly proves, his hand sliding beneath my arm to brush against my ribs. And by brush I mean sharply hit with the accompanying sting of chakra and the pain of a chakra point being closed off. Ouch!

I grit my teeth as some of the blocks Noriyo makes me throw work and some of them don't. Hizashi and Fugaku may not exactly be buddies, but they definitely know enough of each other and their respective family fighting styles to make a good offensive pair. I doubt they want to hear that though.

My guess, honestly, is that they told each other that they would cooperate long enough to win the spar and not one second longer. That also means, unfortunately (or fortunately I suppose, depending on how you want to look at it) that they also agreed to end the spar quickly.

"Noriyo!" I growl out as I'm moved to narrowly dodge another painful looking blow. The shadow holds firm though. I'm a patient person when it counts, but this spar definitely does not count. There is no way this strategy can be salvaged from here. Not unless I'm a sacrificial pawn. Oh wait, that's probably it. Great.

I find myself in a series of quick backflips, giving me short, stunted upside down views of the world behind me; including Fugaku's back that I'm going to collide into in three, two, one-! Fugaku's back disappears in a rush of air as I land on my feet directly behind him in a turning and slashing motion, another kunai having found its way into my hand. Have I mentioned that I hate how Noriyo holds kunai? Seriously, it's so awkward and uncomfortable in my fingers like this.

I can't look up, but I know Fugaku is in the air, having jumped the second before to avoid the slash Noriyo lead me though. I can see his shadow overlapping ours, at the same moment, with that odd chakra sensation, I feel my body suddenly come free and it all makes sense. Sacrificial pawn indeed, more like decoy, but I guess I've served my purpose and the game master has found a new pawn. A rather angry one if Fugaku's choice words and expression are anything to go by. I feel for you, Fugaku. Been there, done that. I should make myself a t-shirt.

A kunai whistling by my head reminds me that there's another opponent. Free to move as I like for the first time in this little spar, I lead a dangerous dance of quick slips and supple dodges. I hate taking pain just as much as I hate giving it. Dodging has been high on my priority list since day one of the academy. Hizashi, cool cucumber that he is, dances right along with me, fist flying out with less than gentle intentions. If the ninja academy had dances, he'd make a good partner. Footwork must be really important to the Hyuuga fighting style.

I can't dodge forever, or can I? It's not like Noriyo and I can beat these two. Sure, she has Fugaku in some sort of weird stalemate, but with the differences in their chakra reserves, it's only a short matter of time until Fugaku will overpower my partner and break free.

"You need to attack." Hizashi's words are so soft as I slip past him, our shoulders nearly touching, that if it weren't for my excellent hearing, I'm not sure I would have caught them all. He knows that though, and I feel my heart warm a bit. Even in the middle of a spar my friends are always looking out for me. Perhaps I could try a little something since it's pretty obvious that they are holding back just enough to give me a chance. We've practiced together before. Fugaku should have broken free five seconds ago by my (always accurate) calculations.

Eyes rolling, I start to form the handsign for a genjutsu, but I guess Fugaku's small well of patience has run dry again. A shout from Noriyo is the only warning I get.

I'm mid turn, already slipping into a dodging motion to avoid the strike I know has to be coming straight at me when that odd chakra sensation hits me again. Noriyo. From our hours of practice together, I give into her without fighting for that first brief second before the part of my brain that finds being controlled like a puppet is wrong kicks in.

I freeze for a moment, a breath, and then I'm a pawn again. I guess plan F is still going then. Fugaku and I trade a few quick blows of the kunai. The slightest misstep from him leaves an opening on his left, near his collarbone. I would ignore it, but Noriyo isn't me, and I feel my body lunge against my will. This is too far, I can feel the sharp pain in my chest explode! I shove my will back at Noriyo and know that as my body freezes up for that split second that, in the eyes of everyone here, in the eyes of Mom, of Dad, and even Dan, that I just failed again.

The shouts of a rude little boy from a dirt field outside main Konoha echo in my head as Fugaku exploits my moment of weakness, knocking me to the ground with a hard punch and a quick follow up of kunai point to jugular. " _Every time you're on a team, that team loses!"_

" _Why couldn't you just kill him with a jutsu while he wasn't looking, like a good ninja?"_

Because I'm not a good little ninja, Sota.

I let out a slow sigh, the pain ebbing away as quickly as it came, closing my eyes against the frustration and disappointment in Fugaku's. Mom is going to be _so_ mad when I get home.

Before I can even get my breath back, Fugaku is speaking, "Give up or your teammate dies." I open my eyes and stare up at the Uchiha heir in confusion, my brain a little stupid because of the lack of oxygen, before it registers that Fugaku is talking to Noriyo. I glance over and see that Hizashi is standing between Fugaku (and me, I suppose) and Noriyo, blocking the path she would need to get her shadow to us since I broke the connection.

Silence prevails for a long moment. I can feel the tension in the air, but I can't be bothered to participate in it. I finally manage to get air back in my body and just stay slumped on the ground, going so far as to close my eyes and ignore the world. Just for a moment. I just need a moment.

The silence drags on, and I wonder how many plans are scrolling through Noriyo's head. Too many for me to keep up with, I imagine. The boys haven't left one inch up to chance, though, and I know that Noriyo knows it as well, because a minute later I hear her kunai thump on the ground and her monotone voice:

"I surrender," she says.

Over me, Fugaku immediately relaxes and draws his kunai away. I squint my eyes open and see that he has his hand out to help me up. Which is an incredibly kind gesture from the heir, especially since disappointment is still marring his face.

I take his hand and am tugged to my feet. I avoid looking over at Noriyo and cross my arms over my chest. It's a clearly defensive gesture, but I kind of want people to know that I'm defensive —they're less likely to bug me this way.

A moment of lingering silence, and then Professor Abe speaks, "Girls, you're late for your kunoichi classes. Leave us." Professor Abe's voice is dry and crackling as it usually is, and his face is just as emotionless as ever. A nice break from the varying range of disappointment and disgust I can feel from my classmates.

I turn and start toward the greenhouse where we were told to meet for class today, staying quiet but relaxing slightly when Noriyo falls into step with me, her shoulder lightly brushing mine.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

My very, _very_ special bouquet of flowers is almost complete. I have blue hyacinths for mission objective (used to show that the rest of the flowers will pertain to a new goal), a white calla lily for assassination, yellow buttercups for multiple enemies, paperwhites for betrayal (usually used to mean betrayal from a fellow Konoha ninja, but it can also mean betrayal from a client or an informant). I just need to find some Eden Brothers (which pretty much means abandon all hope ye who receive this bouquet, mission is FUBAR, but continue mission objective anyway).

Basically, this bouquet is my way of saying ' _I hate you and your stupid plans'_ to Noriyo. The girl is smart. She'll definitely know what I mean. Plus: the blue, white, and yellow scheme looks really cute, with the lone white calla lily surrounded by three big hyacinths, all intertwined with the smaller flowers. Bonus points to me!

Maybe I can even tie the flowers together with ivy, which basically means that the sender has ominous feelings about the mission. That can be construed to mean ' _I totally and completely hate you and the situations you put me in'_ right?

Right.

I gather my flowers into a neat bouquet, quite happy with how it looks. I tuck it against my chest and start looking for Noriyo. The greenhouse that has all the flowers we use is pretty big, but not big enough that one girl should be hard to find. Noriyo is a Nara, though, and she's smart enough to hide from me, if she wants to.

I step around a row of the flowers and spot Noriyo sitting idly in a corner, back tucked against a bag of what is essentially mulch. Of course, I definitely gave Noriyo too much credit, Nara's aren't motivated enough to hide.

I make my way toward my friend, practically skipping in my enthusiasm to give her my flowers. If I can manage to put an expression on her face that isn't just 'sleepy disinterest' I'll have won this round.

"Noriyo," I call, waving. Noriyo looks up, her eyes squinted half closed, a sleepy pout on her face. In another world, I think, the world that only exists in my dreams, Noriyo would have been considered really cute, with her round face and doe eyes. In real life, though, she's considered too soft featured to be completely attractive. Weird.

I crouch down next to the shadow manipulator and gently set my bundle of flowers on Noriyo's lap, "I made you something special," I tell the other girl, saccharine sweet.

Noriyo picks up the flowers as she scoots herself into a more upright position, "You shouldn't have," she says dryly. The thing about Noriyo, I've learned in our years partnering up together during Kunoichi classes, is that she is the most serious about what she's saying when she sounds sarcastic. I fight down another smile and just look as sincere as possible until Noriyo looks down at the flowers I'd given her.

I watch Noriyo's face carefully as she absorbs what I've given her. I can tell that she tries to keep her face as disinterested as ever, but a tick starts in her eyebrow as she eyes the bouquet. I don't bother to suppress a grin as that tick turns into a full blown frown. A beautiful, emotive frown making it quite clear that I've managed to insult the poor dear.

One point for me!

Noriyo manages to control her facial expressions again and she looks up to give me a deadpan face, "Beautiful and clear," she tells me in a monotone, "Impressive as always." She sounds dry as a desert. I smother a giggle. Oh man, she'd better stop with the unintentional hilarity before I start laughing, because laughing, in this emotionally constipated world, is only acceptable if a child does it. After that, it's supposed to be a bit embarrassing. Kind of like farting in public. That won't matter to me, though, if Noriyo keeps that face up, with her faintly ticking eyebrow, I'll gladly take all the weird and faintly disgusted looks and laugh my head off.

Noriyo carefully hands me the bouquet back and drags herself to her feet. From this angle, looking up at the girl, I can see the shadow of her eyebrow moving more clearly. I beam.

"Just a moment," Noriyo intones.

"Take all the time you need," I tell her brightly, shifting over so that I can lean against the bag of mulch and relax, consciously mimicking how Noriyo had been sitting before I bugged her. Noriyo's eyebrow stops ticking, but her nose wrinkles in distaste, so I chalk it up to another point for me.

I fiddle idly with some of the soft petals of one of the hydrangea, rubbing them between my fingers as I watch Noriyo drag herself slowly through the greenhouse, dodging the two other girls that are still in class with us —Ikeda and Mori. The other two had dropped out after the first year.

Noriyo seems to drag herself everywhere. I've never once seen her with her feet off the floor. People say Naras like Noriyo drag their feet because of laziness, but personally I think it's because if they keep their feet on the floor, they always have direct contact with their shadows. Knowing Naras as I do now, though, it's probably both laziness and a sly calculation. Multitasking to conserve energy, as it were.

Noriyo doesn't take more than one lap around the greenhouse to collect her flowers, and she's managed to arrange it prettily enough by time she slumps back next to me, stuffing the flowers into my hands and swiping the one I had made for her back.

The first thing I notice are the bright orange tulips dominating the bouquet. I harrumph and shake my shoulders a bit. Orange tulips mean that the plans or goals for the mission have failed because of internal reasons, as opposed to pink tulips that would mean that the plans have failed because of external reasons. Basically? Noriyo is blaming me for her master plan failing. What a brat.

Around the tulips are delicate little green plants with exactly seven petals on them and a bright red inside. These flowers, a Konoha original called Flowering Kunai, are left for an undercover ninja to find when all other undercover operatives have been killed and/or compromised.

So, Noriyo is telling me that I messed up her plans, and got my teammate (her) killed because of it.

How rude.

The two of us rest next to each other, elbows jostling a bit as we pick through our bouquets. Neither of us has apologized (and neither of us will), but acknowledging the tension between us, and the source of tension has done enough to make us, once again, comfortable with each other.

We spend the rest the time set aside for kunoichi classes sitting quietly next to each other, watching the two other girls and Professor Tachibana (call me Hanami, ladies!) pick through the flowers. Well, that's how I spend my time. Noriyo is either napping, or pretending to nap. I can never quite tell which it is.

I notice the end of the hour has come when Hanami starts heading for the greenhouse entrance, four little flower bundles in her hands, not bigger than a corsage. I drag Noriyo to her feet, and we make our way to the door.

"Miyo, Noriyo," Hanami greets kindly, her lips still but her eyes smiling, "Let's see your bouquets."

Noriyo and I both hold out our bouquets for inspection, and Hanami's eyebrows rise up, a glint of humor appearing at the edge of her lips, "Interesting," she purrs, glancing between us. Noriyo and I shift a bit closer together. Nothing is worse than a teasing interrogation from Hanami, we've both learned that.

Lucky for us, though, Hanami doesn't do more than nod her head and hold out the last two mini-bouquets in her hands. I take the one meant for me and notice the hellebore and bloodroot. Two flowers with strong names, but with a small and delicate appearance. They mean objective success and projected mission success, respectively.

I glance up at Hanami, startled. She had just told me that I was doing well, and that she thought I would continue to do well. It's the nicest thing anyone has ever told me about my ninja abilities.

"Thank you," I tell her, my voice soft.

Hanami smiles at me, just a small grin, but a grin nonetheless. It always cheers me up when she breaks the 'no emotion' rule.

"You're quite welcome, Miyo," she winks.


	5. Student on the Menu

Edited and reposted 2/15/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Five: Student on the Menu

I slump down in my seat, the same exact seat that I've been assigned to since day one in the academy. I press my thumb to the long scratch I had scored under my desk during my second year, an old experiment to see if they ever changed the desks, or if they were just really good at cleaning (because seriously, this place is constantly pristine, and that weirds me out a little) … as it turns out, there's some fuinjutsu scripted onto the bottom of the desks that fights stains, which I may or may not have ruined when I took a kunai to the bottom of the desk. Which may or may not make my desk the dirtiest one in class (not that it's super dirty, it's just noticeable, you know?).

Professor Abe still gives me suspicious looks at least once a week. Not to mention the dirty looks Riko and Senshi, my deskmates, give me every time we're held back to clean the desk. Those poor suckers.

I smirk to myself and run my thumb along the thin, two inch long gouge. Good times. The point is, though, that I've been stuck in the same desk for two years, with the same classmates (minus a few lucky souls who have been allowed to drop out), and on this, the first day of my last year, I am now hearing the same lecture about transformations that I've heard at least twice before.

So, in light of all this constant repetition (not to mention how I'm already frayed with the whole "maybe-I've-died-before-in-a-different-life" dream thing) I think I'm going crazy.

I idly give the stink eye to the sheepish Yuma Inuzuka and his exasperated looking puppy, Jerens, deciding to blame them for my waning sanity. The stupid kid _still_ doesn't know the difference between a transformation genjutsu and an area affect genjutsu. I slump a bit over my desk, arms folded across the smooth wood. I mean, this is literally the first piece of 'ninja magic' that academy students learn, so how does a clan kid mess that up?

I give in to the temptation of my arms and slump further on my desk, resting my chin on my forearm. I eye Inuzuka again and huff. Stupid kid probably just didn't want to cover any new material on the first day of school. What a wimp.

I shrug to myself as much as my position will allow and dig my chin further into my arms. As usual, the Hyuga twins are sitting in front of me with picture perfect posture, their shoulders together a straight, well muscled line bisected by their glossy, pretty brown hair. I tune out Professor Abe's droning on about the most common inconsistencies to look out for with transformation (lack of reflection in the eye, a one-toned hair color, a walking gait that looks uncomfortable, blah blah blah) and instead look over the twins' pristine, well made clothes and the graceful shift of their shoulders as they diligently take notes.

Teachers' pets.

But, well… for teachers' pets… I avidly follow the shift of muscle down Hizashi's and Hiashi's backs under their shirts. Yep, one of the good things about being stuck between the Uchiha and Hyuga feud all these years has definitely been the fact that all three boys make for great eye candy.

I sigh, perhaps a bit wistfully, and turn my attention back toward Professor Abe, "Now that we've, once more," Professor Abe throws a significant look toward a suddenly blushing Yuma Inuzuka (way to fake it, dude. Be a little more subtle next time), "covered the basics of transformations, genjutsu that affect your environment, and infiltration missions, I'm going to ask for four volunteers to face a little third year tradition we have here at the academy."

A stilted silence settles over the classroom immediately. Last year, on a completely normal day in the middle of our second year (but one that has now gone down in infamy), Professor had asked for a volunteer for a "fun little second year tradition" and poor, foolish Kobayashi had immediately volunteered while shooting doe eyes at Jessiryn Rass. He hasn't been seen in the village since.

I slowly lean back in my chair and slide down as much as I can, until my butt is just about hanging off the chair and my weight is resting on my feet, absolutely avoiding eye contact with my teacher. No way, no how do I want to volunteer for a "third year tradition." A quick glance around the room shows that most students have frozen in their seats, staring like deer in the headlights at Professor Abe.

 _Look down, look down_

 _Don't look 'em in the eye_

 _Look down, look down,_

 _You're here until you die_

A haunting little melody plays in my head, but I push it away. I don't have time to ruminate on the echos of another life right now.

"Hmm, no one?" Professor Abe's voice is now whisper soft, but it still manages to echo through the completely silent classroom. "Well," Abe's voice takes on a menacing edge, and a peak beyond Hizashi's shoulder shows a stern Professor Abe holding the ever present clipboard, "I'll just have to help you all out, then."

I start praying. _Please not me. Please. I'm not ready to die for what may or may not be the second time. Please not me._

In the deafening silence of the room, I can hear Professor Abe's finger as he runs it up and down his list of names on his clipboard. I silently plead for him to just get it over with. Abe's a _ninja_ sort of ninja. Meaning that his plans have plans, and those plans are even more cunning than the original plans. There's no way he doesn't already know who he's going to pick as his _volunteers_.

"Caxin Shiranui, thank you for being our first volunteer," Professor Abe falsely cheers in his papery, dry voice. I glance over my shoulder to the seat next to Fugaku, surprised to see that Caxin is actually here today (note to self: work on situational awareness). Caxin, a brown haired, brown eyed student who is a little too sharp featured to be considered attractive, is one of those students who is frequently absent, but seems ultra intelligent. A weird sort of combination that creates an aloof, _I-don't-want-any-friends_ sort of vibe. Professor Abe probably picked him just because he deigned to show up today. Poor kid.

Caxin smiles at the professor —a sort of soft serene smile complete with squinty-smile eyes and a harmless _what-can-you-do?_ shrug, "Happy to help, Professor," he says smoothly. I'm a bit envious of his composure, to be honest.

Professor Abe's smile is 100% patronising in return, and his finger goes back to running up and down his list of students. Silence once more reigns over the classroom. I swear this whole thing is turning into involuntary Russian Roulette.

...Isn't involuntary Russian Roulette just murder?

I burrow further into my seat.

Over and over, Professor Abe's finger slides up and down the list, calling out names every few rotations.

"Kizashi Haruno."

"Hizashi Hyuga."

And finally: "Miyo Nakamura."

I slump so far down my seat, the small of my back is digging into the edge of my chair.

 _Damn it_.

I'm going to die. _I'm going to die_. The class rustles about, most students releasing an audible sigh in relief. In front of me I can see Hiashi move toward his brother, a strange, protective aura taking over his chakra.

At least I'll die with a friend.

Wait! I sit up in my chair and stare in relief at the back of Hizashi's head. No way, _no way_ is Professor Abe about to send a member of the Hyuga clan out to die, or disappear, or whatever. No way!

...Unless we each have something different to do. I groan and collapse forward against my desk, burrowing my hands into my hair. If we all have something different to do, Hizashi could be fine, and I could still die.

 _Damn it._

Professor Abe paces to his desk and sets down his clipboard before turning back to the class, "Let me explain this tradition to all of you," I slowly slide my hands the rest of the way through my waist length hair and sit up a bit, deciding to hope for the best. After all, if Professor Abe is going to actually take the time to explain to the whole class what we're going to do, maybe it won't be that bad. It's certainly more than what he gave out for Kobayashi's assignment.

"As you all may remember, on your first day at the Academy, you were lead here by a brown haired man," Professor Abe raises his eyebrow at us. I think back and okay, yes, I totally remember that. He had had a striking scar on his face, and he had been the one to assign us to our seats, and he had had a clipboard that he had been strangely protective of, _but what does that have to do with how I might die?_ Looks of remembrance and faint nodding circle through the class.

Professor Abe continues, "That man was actually a third year student named Sakumo Hatake under a transformation," he says.

I can feel my brow furrow, because what? A third year student with a vaguely familiar name?

That doesn't sound like death, I guess.

 _I might live!_

"What in the _world_?" I murmur out loud, ignoring the faint amused snort I hear behind me (because there is no way that Fugaku, as my dear friend, would ever dare laugh at me in this situation) as I rub my face with my hands, trying to smooth out my thoughts. I feel like I'm getting mental whiplash, which really can't be good for my already failing sanity.

"Hatake had volunteered, just like some of you have," I bite back a sarcastic scoff, "to test his transformation skills and lead one of the first year classes to their classrooms. Nakamura, Shiranui, Hyuga, Haruno," the professor meets each of our eyes as he says our names, "Each of you have the rest of today to come up with a transformation disguise in preparation for tomorrow's first year classes. Your transformation cannot be based on any person, living or dead."

I stare down at the professor, pretty purplexed. A… disguise? Using transformation? To lead the first years to their classes? Well. That's really not so bad, is it? I probably won't die from that.

But seriously? What was the point?

"You four will meet here tomorrow an hour before class, in your transformed appearances, to receive further instruction. Please be aware that if any first-year student recognises you or figures out that you are not who you introduce yourselves as, it is an automatic fail." I lean back in my chair, more than a little flabbergasted at this whole situation. It all seems a little… overkill, to me. Transformed disguises to lead in first years? Failure if found out? I get that this'll be an excellent indicator of our infiltration abilities, but why us?

More importantly, why me?

I huff, crossing my arms and sinking once more back into my chair. I can vaguely see the back of Kizashi Haruno's head a few rows ahead of me, and the poor plum haired boy seems jittery and nervous already.

"As for the rest of you," Professor Abe continues as he sweeps his eyes over the class, "After these four return to our class, a test will be given to suss out who is who, which should be doable if you've been paying adequate attention to your infiltration lectures." A pointed glance toward Inuzaka.

I shift in my chair a bit, a bit relieved, honestly, to hear that the whole class will be involved. Things are making more and more sense, and I can feel the tension leaking from my shoulders.

"This will be an evaluation on your infiltration skills," Professor Abe continues, "which will stretch throughout the rest of this year. Each of you will have a chance to test out your transformation skills, and all of you will have many opportunities to try and identify transformed intruders in various situations. This will be the only time you get an advanced warning, after this imposters will appear throughout the year in random situations, and I'll be very disappointed if you all can't work out that they are, indeed, imposters."

I hum a bit in understanding as excited whispers erupt in the classroom. A year long infiltration exam, starting with Kizashi Haruno, Caxin Shiranui, Hizashi and me. A sense of competition swells in my chest and I fight down an excited smirk. Maybe this won't be as bad as I'm envisioning it to be.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

Everyone has their faults. If one of mine just so happens to be being competitive over petty things, I'm fine with that. Hence why I spent last night dying my hair with a dark brown dye that washes out with ice cold water, and woke up far earlier than usual this morning to finish preparing my disguise.

Meeting my own gaze of gray eyes in the mirror, I start the magic. If I leave everything to genjutsu, I'll be discovered for sure. It's easier to maintain small appearance changes rather than a whole new look. Lucky for me, I have a special little friend called make-up, and dreams of a previous life to help me out.

The foundation goes first, slightly lighter than my actual skin tone (swiped from my mother's stash of makeup, but she's on a mission, so what she won't know won't hurt her).

Once I'm satisfied that it's properly applied, I lace my fingers together and cast a teeny genjutsu to make the makeup appear more like my actual skin than it normally would (it also allows me to carry the color to the rest of my body, but faces are heavily scrutinized, so I need to make sure it holds, hence the make-up).

True disguises come in layers.

Next is the actual shape of my face. Nothing too drastic, but a little more definition here, round that out, more chin, no, less. It takes a few minutes to get the shape just how I want it —it just doesn't look right without everything else changed yet, but soon. I know what I'm going for. There was a boy in my past life who I remember bits and pieces of. As I recall it, he was very pretty. Who better to model myself after in this world of androgynous beauty than him?

With redefined cheekbones, I look over my face critically in the mirror while applying a slight natural blush —just enough to go with the summer heat. Turning my head side-to-side, I nod. So far, so good. Now, twitching my nose in the mirror (and making some more hand signs), I cast my own little spell and watch as it changes, becoming less round, more stern —not too much though. Once the shape is set —I wish I had the skill to confidently mold fake pieces to attach to my face, but I haven't quite figured out what materials I could use to do with just what I have around the house— I dip back into the make-up.

Moving onto my eyebrows, I let out a thoughtful hum. I could just cast a genjustu over them, but where's the fun in that? Remember, overly competitive about petty things, here! I pick up the tweezers; if my memory serves right —which it does, I may not remember much, but what I do remember _sticks_ — this one and that one need to go. Keep that part, a bit more arch, taper the point a bit. There, perfect. An application of some dark brown eyebrow pencil and they're done.

My eyes go next. Most people would cast a quick color change genjutsu and be done (if they ever bother to be this detailed in the first place), but not me. It has to be perfect. That little perfectionist in my soul wouldn't have any less. Besides, flat color changes leave the eyes looking dull, a tell for genjutsu if you know what to look for. Slowly, carefully, I bring brown into my eyes, darker and darker until I reach the shade I want while also widening them to give a more doe-eyed look.

Now that the main part of the transformation is done, I gather my hair in my hands. Separating out the parts that naturally fall in front of my ears, I take the rest and secure it into a high ponytail on my head. Putting a few bobby pins that were sitting on the counter in front of the mirror in my mouth, I work on turning the ponytail into a bun. Once that's done, I cover the bun in a piece of cloth and tie it in place with a small blue string decorated with a few pale beads—it's a rather popular fashion. The strands surrounding my face I secure by wrapping them up with a soft fabric ribbon close to the ends so the hair can't fly loose.

I smile at the reflection in the mirror that looks nothing like me, but all like the feminine boy I remember, only slightly older looking. Professor Abe said I couldn't look like anyone living or dead, but he didn't say anything about someone from our dreams — I guess the joke's on him this time. The last visible changes are my ears (paranoia at its finest, people, and I just really want to fool everybody). I have no clue what the boy's ears looked like, so I simply make sure they just don't look like mine anymore.

Turning to my closet, I frown. This is where it can get a bit tricky. I'm not full grown, being only ten years old, so impersonating an adult professor will force me to appear taller than I am now; which is not easy. Body movements tend to look a bit off when you're portraying someone of a different size or build than your own. Last night I decided to settle for being taller, but not too tall. An extra foot so that I'm five feet two inches will work. Not everyone grows to be really tall, after all.

Fortunately, I had plenty of time to think about it last night, and with a bit of help from Dad, came up with a decent plan. Digging into the back of my closet where clothes I don't wear much end up, I locate a box full of hand-me-downs from Dan. One of the more recent additions to the box, and by recent I mean two or three years ago, is a dark blue pair of Dan's old training pants and a shirt to match. They're just about the right length for my transformed form after I roll them up a few times.

I feel a bit silly when I put them on since they are still way too big for me, and I have to pull up the pant legs so I don't trip over them as I make my way downstairs. Mom is gone on another mission, but Dad is waiting in the kitchen for me with the final pieces for my disguise.

"Wow Mi-Mi," Dad hums as he looks intently at my face. "If I didn't know it was you, I'm not sure I'd guess it was." Smiling, he holds out the last two things I need: a pair of stilted shoes, and one of his spare vests that looks a bit off from the one Professor Abe wears. "I can't give you one of my current vests to wear due to regulations, but this is the last model they used that was phased out around the time you were born, so there shouldn't be any problems."

Sitting down on a chair at the kitchen table, I pull on the stilted shoes. Normally stilted shoes are for training your balance, but I'll just use them for an instant growth spurt. Where Dad got them, I have no idea, but whenever something ninja-related sparks my interest he's always quick to support. Neither of us have forgotten the promise I gave him before I started the academy —to find something I excel at so well that they'll never have to ask me to kill.

Slipping the vest on and fastening it shut, I get to my feet (or stilts I suppose), and take a moment to adjust to the different sensation. I guessed pretty accurately on the length of the pant legs; which now hang an inch or two above the ground. Dad reaches out an arm to steady me, but I wave it away and take a few steps. After crossing the kitchen floor back and forth several times, I have the feeling down.

Turning to face Dad, I shake my hands free of the too long sleeves and perform the handsigns for the transformation jutsu. A small puff of smoke accompanies the chakra —I've been practicing, but can't quite get rid of all the smoke yet; I'm close, though. When it clears a second or two later, feet in ninja sandals replace stilts, too long of sleeves now fit just right, and new chunin vest replaces old special jounin vest. Dad takes it all in, walking around me in a slow circle before coming to a stop in front of me.

"Go get 'em, Miyo."

I take a deep breath and nod at my dad, sending him the soft, serene smile that I had practiced in the mirror all of yesterday and I clasp my hands delicately in front of me, firmly settling into the character that I'm playing (I'm determined to do my best to not break character —another quirk I have that evolved from my competitive streak), "I'll try my best," I breath as airly as possible, dropping my voice to the lowest alto I can manage naturally, "Thank you for your help, Special Jounin Nakamura," I bow my head toward my father.

Fath-Mr. Nakamura — _stay in character, stay in character!_ — smiles widely and comes toward me, thumping a hand down on my shoulder. I shift slightly away, feigning an unimpressed look, complete with a slightly raised eyebrow, to try and impress upon my fath-Mr. Nakamura that we are not familiar enough to be so casual with each other — _stay in character, Miyo!_.

"That's the spirit, Miyo!" Mr. Nakamura shakes my shoulder once before stepping back. I nod slightly at the man and walk as gracefully as I can manage toward the door. I have an assignment I can't be late for, after all.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

The Academy is only a quick run on top of the roof-top ninja runways from the Nakamura household, so it doesn't take long before I'm gliding soundlessly through the front doors. As I walk toward Prof- (no, that doesn't sound right for this character…) Chunin Abe's classroom (much better), I apply one last genjutsu to myself. Miyo Nakamura's chakra is recognisable to her fellow classmates, and to separate myself from that, I release a little more chakra than usual, and cast a small illusion to distort my regular chakra patterns, giving it a more 'snowy chill' sort of vibe.

It… mostly works. I'm aware that my own lightening attuned chakra is still peeking through the illusion, but this is the best that I can do under the circumstances. Honestly, I wish I had more time to try and successfully cast the illusion, but an unknown ninja with an unfamiliar chakra signature running around the ninja roof-top highways toward the Ninja Academy? Yeah, not the best of ideas.

I shake off my thoughts and once again assume my meekest, most graceful stance that I'm capable of. I'm right on time and as ready as I'll ever be.

I knock softly on Pro-Chunin Abe's — _stay in character!_ — door as I observe the people inside (as it turns out, being right on time means that I'm the last one here). Chunin Abe is standing in front of his desk, facing three strangers that I've never seen before. Hizashi Hyuga, Kizashi Haruno, and Caxin Shiranui, I assume it's safe to guess. The four turn toward me and I take a small step into the room, "I apologise for my lateness," I murmur as I bow my head docilely, making sure to keep a critical eye on the three strangers.

It's… startlingly easy to tell who is who.

Closest to me is a tall man with an intimidating frame and bright, yellow-blond hair. He's wearing an outdated chunin vest (not something an enemy would be able to tell, the difference between vest iterations is so small, but that was kind of the point). I'm about 90% sure that this is Kizashi Haruno.

Haruno, who comes from a strictly civilian, mercantile background wouldn't know how to spot the difference in chunin vests, and would pick an obviously intimidating figure to transform into (because what little ninja-wannabe doesn't dream of growing up to be an intimidating adult-ninja?). Throughout the years I've also noticed that Haruno has a tendency to forget to add highlights and undertones to his illusioned hair, making his transformations seem fake and one-dimensional, which can be seen in this man's one-toned bright, sunshine colored hair.

Next to the yellow-haired man is a figure of indeterminate gender (though I would hazard a guess that he's male, just because of the way they're standing —though that could be more because of who is behind the transformation technique rather than anything the person has intended).

I eye the man up and down real quick; it's not the illusion technique that gives away that this is Hizashi, though. Instead, it's the incredibly well-made, vibrant clothes and the strict posture that give it away. Hizashi, who grew up in, not only one of the founding clan families, but the _richest_ founding clan, wouldn't quite realize that beauty (which the transformed person in front of me has in spades) and handmade clothing doesn't always equate to power. I bite back a scoff. He's certainly not trying to blend in, at the very least.

Farthest from me is a petite female with long, brown hair pulled into twin braids at the nape of her neck. Her chakra is completely hidden (an impressive, but ultimately stupid feat —there's no better way to tell if someone is not who they say they are than if their chakra is hidden in a supposedly safe area, it's basically a rule that ninja flaunt their chakra so that everyone can tell that they are who they say they are). While, from where I'm standing, her eyes seem too flat to be real, there's really nothing to really give away her identity as Caxin Shiranui except through the process of elimination.

I step up next to the blond-haired Haruno and turn toward Chunin Abe, giving him my complete attention.

 _Stay in character, stay in character, stay in character._

"An adequate attempt, students," Chunin Abe rasps as he steps forward, his eyes intent on each of us for a moment. I hold his eyes when they meet mine, letting a soft smile lift the corner of my lips in thanks for the compliment.

Chunin Abe snorts, and turns away from us, walking around his desk. He bends and opens a drawer, straightening with four new clipboards in his hands, "Let's see," he muses to himself as he briefly looks over the boards, "Hizashi Hyuga, you will be in charge of leading class 1A," Chunin Abe hands over the top clipboard to the man (woman?) with nice clothes.

I cover my mouth briefly with my hand, covering a small smirk. One point for me, being right is an amazing feeling! I quickly stuff down the smug feeling when I catch Prof-Chunin Abe's eyes, folding my hands behind my back. Right. Stay in character.

Chunin Abe continues, "Hizashi, I would recommend some clothes that aren't made by your clan, next time. I would also spend some time in the mirror practicing different stances." Hizashi takes his clipboard and gives a small, tight nod to the chunin.

"Kizashi Haruno," Chunin Abe turns to the big man with yellow hair, "While ninja rule number twenty may state that to blend in, one must stand out, this, perhaps, might be a little too much," Chunin Abe levels Kizashi with a stern look, clipboard extended toward the sheepish looking man, "Also, we've talked about your hair before, Kizashi. Add some different tones before you go greet class 1B."

"Yes, Professor," Kizashi takes the clipboard and turns away, settling on top of one of the desks with his eyes closed and his hands folding into a familiar sequence of seals —immediately, his hair turns a more pale blond, with only a few highlights in a darker golden tone.

A rustle of clipboards has me turning back toward Chunin Abe, and I mentally scold myself for turning my back on him in the first place. Ninja rule number twenty-three: never turn your back to a ninja, which basically means to trust no one. Not a very cheery thought.

Chunin Abe's eyes dart between Caxin and I, before he holds out a clipboard toward myself, "You two did an excellent job," I reach out and take the clipboard, "Miyo Nakamura, you will be in charge of class 1C, and while your transformation technique is faultless," I allow myself one smug smirk, directed toward my classmates (because yes, I am that much of a bad-winner) before I once again don my persona for the day and dip my head in thanks, "The illusion cast on your chakra could use some work." Chunin Abe finishes. I nod, stepping back a bit.

"And finally, Caxin Shiranui," The final clipboard exchanges hands, "Add some depth to your eyes, and let out a bit of your chakra and you'll be perfect," the cheerful looking girl that is Caxin nods her head and steps back. "You'll be in charge of class 1D," Chunin Abe ends.

He gives each of us a brief moment to look over our clipboards where I notice two rather familiar looking names on mine.

I...know these names from somewhere. I critically eye the two names, but my attention is pulled away by Chunin Abe's clearing throat, "Now, I have one final set of instructions for you before I let you loose on the first years," he reaches into one of his vest pockets and pulls out a slip of paper.

"This is a code that each of you is to memorize and use _correctly_ ," he emphasizes with a sharp glare, "to make notes about the incoming students. Think of this as an extra credit portion of today's test on infiltration. I want to see how well you can suss these students out based on their first impressions. You have five minutes to look it over before I burn it. Leaving a cipher is unacceptable in the field, and so it will be here."

I accept the piece of paper from Chunin Abe and the others gather round to look over my shoulder —which is easy for them since I picked such a short transformation - even Caxin's is a few inches taller than me.

...Not that it would have been a problem regularly, I realize. It's not exactly like I'm breaking any height records in this new world. My parents are both on the short side of average, and it's looking like I'm going to follow in their footsteps.

The five minutes that follow are full of tension, and me doing my best not to laugh at the ridiculous code in my hands. Our objective is to turn our assigned classes into a _lunch menu_ , of all the ridiculous things!

The cypher includes odd, but basically straightforward rules to test our first impressions. For instance, if I think that a student is a first generation ninja (having parents who are civilian), I'm to put them down as an appetiser food code name, as opposed to students that I think are from ninja backgrounds, who would be assigned a main course name. The exception to the rules are the four founding clans, who will be given drink code names, with each founding family a different type of drink.

I try not to crack up when I see that Uchiha's are given alcoholic code names, and Hyuga's are given different tea code names. I wonder what they assigned my friends. Whiskey Uchiha and Black and Green Tea Hyuga? I muffle a snort and keep looking over the code.

More criteria that we're judging the students on are: if the student tries to sneak a peek at what we're writing on the clipboard, we'll change their code name to a dessert (how I'm supposed to make a curiosity ridden first generation student an _appetizer_ dessert, I have no idea!); if they don't talk when we tell them not to talk, add 'sugar free' to their menu name; if I think that the student in question will drop out of the academy before graduation, I'm to write 'no-tip' next to their code name; and finally, if I want to earn _extra_ extra credit points, I can try and guess their elemental affinity and assign the appropriate codes for that.

In the last minute of our allotted time to memorize the code, to make sure that I've understood everything, I try and apply _myself_ to the code. As a student with a ninja background, I would be a main course. Oooh, maybe something delicious and high-end, like beef wellington (which probably doesn't exist here, but I had a dream about it last night, and I've been craving it since). But… I shake my head, these rules are so weird. I remember I had looked at the clipboard (or tried to) when Hatake had been assigning our seats, so would that make me a dessert?

Probably.

Chocolate cake, then. I'm chocolate cake. I didn't talk when given the order not to, so that would give me the 'sugar free' add on, and, personally, I didn't think that I would make it when I first started, so maybe I would get the 'no tip' add on, as well. Lastly, my elemental affinity is lightning, and a third-year student like Hatake should have been able to sense that in my chakra signature, so that means that my order would have been sent to Room 103, which is how I would designate a lightning elemental affinity (each element has a different room to order to. I foresee myself using Room 101 the most, which is the designation for fire affinities, since that is what is most common here in Konoha).

All in all, if I were to evaluate myself, I would be Sugar free Chocolate Cake, no tip, ordered to Room 103. How bizarre.

Finishing my memorization of the rather odd code, I can't help but think that, no matter how weird this whole thing is, this will be _fun_.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

The new first years milling about on the academy grounds look so scared and lost it's almost cute, not that I can't sympathize since my parents basically abandoned me to enemy territory when they dropped me off, but that's not the point. It's time to gather the little ducklings up.

"Everyone assigned to class 1C gather over here," I call in a soft lilting voice that carries over the grounds, trying keep my voice calm and comforting. Hizashi and Kizashi have already taken their classes inside, so it's just Caxin and me left. After a few seconds, my voice registers and some of the kids start to gather, but definitely not all of them.

"I don't think that's going to be a very effective way to collect them," Caxin comments in a high, girl-ish voice. I discreetly roll my eyes. He has no room to talk. I may be shorter, but I look more like an adult than his braided pigtail girl ever will. Besides, I have a trick or two up my sleeves. Bringing my fingers to my mouth, I let out a sharp, shrill whistle that immediately draws the attention of everyone still on the grounds.

"I called for everyone in class 1C," I repeat, my mouth forming a small frown and my eyes hardening. I let a little of my frost-illusioned chakra out, leaking the slightest bit of killing intent —just enough to give off an aura of disapproval, but not enough to mentally scar the newbie students.

And, like a shepherd calling its flock, the grounds are in a flurry of movement as all the kids assigned to class 1C race to be the first in line in front of me, while the others take hurried steps away, relieved looking faces turning toward Caxin, the only other adult in the courtyard. I turn my face towards Caxin as well and allow an eyebrow to raise. He returns it with an incremental smile and shake of his head. Point for me.

Looking down the line of kids in front of me, I let my face relax back to a serene smile. "That's more like it." I pause for a moment, glancing down at the boy in the front of the line. He has bright blond hair and blue eyes with a facial structure slightly more feminine and fine featured than the average male. He'll be a real knock-out when he reaches adulthood. With no obvious signs of clan affiliation, but looking more prepared than a first generation, I make up my mind on the spot.

Eggs. Sunny side up.

Keeping the smirk off my face is hard, but I manage to stay in character, passing my gaze quickly over the rest of the line before abruptly turning and gliding towards the building.

"Follow me, no talking or butting in line." I don't bother looking back to see if they follow, but I do keep my ears peeled. If any of the students talk now, I would have to identify who they are and make sure not to label their code names 'sugar free.'

I wish I could have the joy of seating all the little firsties according to my whim, but a seating chart was included with the class roster, so all I can do is ask for names, send them to their preassigned seats, and label them according to the code.

The little blond boy with the bright blue eyes that I've already given the affectionate code name of Eggs, Sunny Side Up, belongs to the name Minato Namikaze. A… curiously familiar name belonging to a somewhat familiar face.

I shake it all off, though. My weird dreams of another reality don't matter much here, and I have to stay in character, or I'll fail this assignment. I turn my attention back toward labeling students with the code. Namikaze turns into Sugar Free Eggs, Sunny Side Up, ordered to Room 102 (the designation for wind elemental affinities).

Oh, the glorious code. Perhaps I'm taking a bit too much liberty with it, assigning labels that could be construed as mean-spirited or harsh, but if the shoes fits, I'll make them wear it. That is how permanent labels such as Sunny Side Up, Pork Bun, Jalapeno Nachos, and Plum Pudding entrenched themselves into my mind and onto my clipboard. I'm sure if I see any of these kids again, I'll never remember their actual names.

It all just makes me wonder what I was labeled as two years ago. Do they still have the paperwork for my class tucked away in some filing cabinet drawer? I wouldn't mind trying to find out. As I continue directing children to their seats and assigning them code names, a vague plan starts to form in the back of my mind. No, I wouldn't mind finding out at all...

The last kid, chicken wings, a boy with gangly proportions and a heavy dose of coordination issues —who will definitely not be getting a tip, because I would put money on this boy dropping out in the next year— takes his seat. I sweep my gaze around the room once. This is a rather boring class in my opinion. So few desserts, so many tips, most of them sugar free, and a lot of ordering out to room 101. Not my problem; though, I do have a few parting words for them before I return to my own class.

"If you talk, or leave your seats, I can't guarantee you'll like the consequences." I almost whisper, my voice carrying in the dead quiet classroom.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

I observe my classmates calmly, keeping my hands clasped demurely in front of me and a serene smile on my face as their eyes flick between Caxin and me. As expected, Kizashi Haruno was the first of the four of us 'volunteered' to be picked out by our classmates, followed with a little more of a struggle by Hizashi. Now the class can't seem to decide which of the two of us remaining is me and which is Caxin.

I don't think I've ever had more fun in my life(s)!

"To try and help everyone out, why don't you each give a brief introduction?" Professor Abe's voice rasps out. I see the Hyuga twins and Fugaku grimace in frustration, but they are forbidden from using their dojutsus, because, as Professor Abe put it "As a trusted ninja of Konoha, you will be expected to recognise infiltrators, even if you are on the cusp of dying from chakra exhaustion." Which means that us illusioned 'strangers' have a fairer chance at keeping our identities secret without their cheating eyes. No one is allowed to feel for our chakra signatures either since we are still learning to disguise those.

Professor Abe comes and taps Caxin on his (well, her) shoulder, "Introduce yourself," he commands. Caxin, in his girly-guise, stutters a bit and blushes, twisting her hands together and avoiding eye contact with the class.

"M-my name is Sakuno Ryuzaki," Caxin starts, "I-I'm a first generation ninja, and I was recently promoted to the rank of chunin. My family are merchants that o-originate from the Land of Wind." The girl gives a small bow, "I-It's a pleasure to be here today!" She finishes a bit too loudly in her excitement, a bright blush on her cheeks.

I can't help but feel extremely impressed. Who knew Caxin Shiranui could act? A glance at my classmates shows a sea of flabbergasted faces. That's my queue!

I smoothly step forward and smile softly at the class, waving softly in greeting, "I am Hari," I introduce myself in the soft and smooth tenor voice I've been using all day, trying to meet each of my classmates eyes, "my mother is a ninja clan, while my father is a civilian. It is my biggest goal in life to become an effective tool for my country and to keep my precious people safe. I believe," I touch just over my heart, gazing meaningfully over the class, "that a ninja is only truly strong when they have something to protect." I take a step back and bow slightly, "Thank you for having me here today."

Befuddled faces! Befuddled faces everywhere! I hold in my laughter and continue to smile serenely, though I clasp my hands behind my back and dig my nails into my palm a bit in a bid to keep in control.

"Well?" Professor Abe asks, "Are there any guesses?"

Shibi Aburame raises his hand, and at Professor Abe's nod, says, "I believe that the one who introduced themselves as Hari is Miyo Nakamura. Why? Because Nakamura has shown an aptitude in the past for making elaborate back stories on infiltration assignments." I have to force myself to hold my character and not flinch in surprise when I hear my name, hiding a pout while I'm at it. Not cool, Aburame, not cool.

...Probably something to keep in mind, though.

"Hmm," Professor Abe muses, "A relevant observation, Mr. Aburame," the teacher nods, "but in this instance, we are testing your skills on seeing faults in illusions and breaks in character that are indicative of infiltration. While it is easy now to guess who is who based on what you know of your classmates, in the future infiltrators of Konoha won't be your childhood classmates. So, before I let Mr. Aburame know whether he is correct, are there anymore observations to be had based on what I just told you?"

The students look back and forth amongst themselves before they all start to shake their heads. Ikeda, the shy daughter of diplomats, hesitatingly speaks up, "Um, both of those two," she gestures toward Caxin and I with her hands, "never broke character, and I can't see anything wrong with their illusions," she explains softly.

Professor Abe nods at the girl, "Do you all feel the same?" he asks toward the class. A round of nods passes through the classroom. "Very well, Nakamura, Shiranui, release your illusions."

I nod and twist my fingers into the appropriate handsign, "Kai!" I command, echoed by Caxin, feeling the illusions that I had carefully placed this morning unravel from my chakra. Once again, I am a nine-year-old girl in too tall shoes and too big clothes, with a wealth of makeup on my face and dyed hair.

Silence reigns in the classroom for a moment, as the other kids take in Caxin and I, before Yuma Inuzuka jumps up and points at me, "Guys, look!" he shouts, "Nakamura totally dyed her hair and everything!" I self-consciously reach up and touch my dark, bound hair, frowning at the clan kid as the majority of the class starts to laugh and nod in agreement, pointing out other things I had done to their table mates and friends.

I turn my attention from Inuzuka to try and try to see if my friends are laughing at me, too. I see the Hyuga twins with smirks etched on their faces, but Fugaku is sternly frowning at the rest of the class. For a second I'm able to meet his eyes, and even from across the room, I can feel us bond in our mutual distaste for the kids we're stuck with as classmates. I knew there was a reason that Fugaku is my favorite.

Before the class can get too rowdy, Professor Abe steps forward and flares a smidgen of killing intent, the same way I had earlier to gain class 1C's attention (which is where I learned it from in the first place).

Professor runs a critical, disapproving eye over the class while he gently pushes Caxin and I toward our seats (I notice that Caxin has the opposite problem that I do, while my clothes are too big for me, his look entirely too small and girly, it's a pretty funny image).

"Now, I don't know why you are all laughing at Nakamura," Professor Abe's dry voice chides as I slip into my seat, giving Fugaku and Caxin a smile over my shoulder as I sit down, "How long, exactly, do you think each of you are able to hold a constant, full body illusion for? Hmm?" he questions. I immediately see where this is going, and mentally pat myself on the back for a job well-done.

No one is brave enough to answer. "Those of you with the highest chakra reserves or the most chakra control can probably hold a steady illusion in ideal circumstances for about three hours at your level of training."

Professor Abe paces in front of the class, "As you get older, this time will become larger, but, in contrast, the situations you find yourselves in will become more and more difficult. A _smart_ ninja, such as Nakamura, Shiranui, and Hyuga, will prepare for this by transforming themselves without chakra as much as possible." I see Kizashi wince a little in his seat, and feel a smidgen of sympathy for him.

"As you saw, using clothes that are made to fit your illusioned form helps a great deal." Professor Abe continues, eyeing Inuzuka especially, "But as Nakamura has shown, the more you can do without chakra, the better off you are. Nakamura!" I jump a little as Professor Abe suddenly calls my name, sitting up straight in attention.

"Yes, sir?" I ask.

"What percentage of your reserves do you estimate you have left?" the teacher asks. I frown, looking down at my hands as I try and suss my coils out.

Trying to feel your own chakra coils isn't something that is taught until the end of our second year. Over the break I've tried to get better at it, but it still takes me a moment to really understand what I'm feeling.

"Maybe… seventy-five percent?" I guess, half expecting Abe to tell me to try again. He just nods, though, and repeats his question to Caxin.

"I'm sitting at around fifty-five or sixty percent," Caxin admits.

"Already a difference between our two most successful students today," Professor Abe comments in a dry, ironic voice. "Well, what would you say, Hyuga?" Abe obviously means Hizashi.

"Fifty percent," Hizashi says stiffly. I can only image the epic scowl that he's got going on right now.

"And you, Haruno?"

"Thirty percent, Professor," Kizashi admits sullenly. That… is quite the low number. It makes sense, though. Kizashi did a _complete_ illusion. From his clothes to his size, everything was changed with chakra. That must have been exhausting.

Professor Abe nods and paces again in front of the class, "Mm, so we see that the more you do without chakra, the better off, yes?"

The class nods. Professor Abe steps back and leans against his desk, "Now, if our four volunteers had been more stressed today —say, in enemy territory where being discovered means you forfeit your life and fail your mission, just _how much_ _more_ chakra do you think each would have used to successfully hold their illusions?"

Silence once again reigns over the classroom as we mull it over. I try and really think about it. Not only would I have to pay more attention to the illusions, especially the small ones that were easiest to slip from my grasp, but I'd have to pump more chakra into them so that they would be more stable. That way, if I were surprised by something, they'd have a better chance of holding. The difference in chakra consumption in that situation would be… exponential.

"I see that you're all getting it, now." Abe smiles his dry, brittle smile, his eyes more mocking than proud, "Nakamura, who is sitting at around eighty percent with her reserves now, would probably be sitting somewhere around forty percent after two hours in enemy territory." I gulp, yikes. That's… huh. I shift in place and rub at my arms. "The ninja capable of holding illusions and transformation techniques in enemy territory are highly valued and hard to come by." Professor Abe finished succinctly.

I frown. Exactly how hard is hard to come by? If we were trying to make a percentage out of this, how many ninja out of one hundred ninja would have the ability to perform such a feat? Curious, I raise my hand, and when Professor Abe gives me permission, I ask my question.

"If we were to look at it objectively," Abe says as he walks over to the chalkboard and picks up a piece of chalk, "we could conservatively say that out of one hundred ninja perhaps ten have the potential for such an ability. Realistically, I would say six is more accurate." He writes the numbers on the board, the chalk squeaking unpleasantly on our ears.

"Now, here is the key," he continues, tapping the numbers he's written, "potential and reality are not the same thing. Let's pick a number in the middle and go with eight ninja out of our hundred have the potential to be long-term infiltrators." The number eight joins the others on the board and receives a circle around it to set it apart. "Of those eight that have _potential_ , how many of them will actually take the time to hone and pursue that particular skill set?"

Silence reigns for several long moments until Abe gives, in his own dry and direct way, the answer to his own question. "One." Quiet murmurs and whispers spread through the class for a few seconds before a look from Abe silences them. "Statistically speaking, that is less than one percent. True infiltrators, to answer Nakamura's question, the ones who can stay undercover as long as they are required to, are a rare and dying breed.

"The transformation technique you have all learned in this class is a pathetic imitation of what a true infiltrator can accomplish, but unless one of you ends up belonging to that less than one percent, what you have learned here should suit your needs just fine. Most missions rarely require that you be in disguise for more than a few hours, if it is required at all." Taking a moment, Abe glances at the clock on the wall, and sets the piece of chalk down in the tray.

"Today's lesson on infiltration will conclude with this: the more you can transform yourself without chakra, the better off you will be."

* * *

And that's the last of the edited and reposted chapters! See you guys and gals in a week for the brand new chapter six!

The Splits


	6. To Catch a Mouse, be a Cat

Posted: 2/21/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter 6: To Catch a Mouse, be a Cat

"You want us to _what_?" Hiashi asks again, his eyebrows raised as high as a Hyuga can raise them and still look dignified. Hizashi seems much more resigned to my request, and has simply closed his eyes. He's probably trying really hard to not smile. Stupid ninja rule number thirty.

"How many times do I have to explain it?" I sigh in exasperation. "I need you two to use your eyes to look through the walls —unless you're really telling me that you _can't_ —" I emphasize with a challenge in my voice that makes Hiashi stiffen. Oh pride, how easy you are to manipulate, "and tell me if there are any rooms in the academy not being used for classes or training."

"Why?" I resist the urge to roll my eyes. At least he didn't say no.

"Because."

"That's hardly a reason," Hiashi retorts and begins to turn away, obviously getting tired of my antics so early in the morning, but I'm not about to let him get away. Not when my curiosity is killing me from the inside out. Ever since the third year tradition, I've been dying to get my hands on our class roster and see what codes we were assigned. The problem is finding the roster in the first place, hence why I need the Hyuga's help. I figure that if I can find some sort of teacher's lounge or file room, it'll be easy as pie to take a look at my class' file.

"But Hiashi," I murmur, my hands having already flown with quick familiarity through the three-sign jutsu Hanami —Professor Tachibana finally convinced me to call her that— had taught the girls the end of second year kunoichi classes to change our voices and add a very minor hypnotizing effect.

My hand snakes its way around Hiashi's closest arm, and I pull us firmly towards each other, my head resting on his shoulder. He partially stiffens under me, and I know I can only get away with this because we are friends, no one else would dare touch the Hyuga heir in such a way. No one would be _allowed_ to touch the Hyuga heir this way —not if they want to keep their arms, that is.

"Don't you know," I continue, my lips tickling his ear, my free arm coming up around his neck, "that every girl has her secrets." I finish slowly, allowing the faintest of kisses to brush his ear, snapping him out of it as he pushes me firmly away from him.

"How many times do we have to tell you _not_ to practice your kunoichi techniques on us?" I know there's no real bite to his words. All three of the boys silently accepted their fates as my practice victims by the end of our first year. Smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on his clothing, Hiashi settles down a bit, sharing a brief eye conversation with Hizashi before turning back to me.

"Our standing agreement to not be entangled in the repercussions of this will be upheld." This time I do roll my eyes. Leave it to a Hyuga to have a fancy way of saying 'We'll help you, but we're throwing you under the bus if you get caught'.

"As per usual," I agree wryly, "You two are the best!" I tack on with no small amount of cheek. I can almost swear that Hiashi made a rather Fugaku like noise, but I won't, because I know his pride wouldn't allow him to stoop so low.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"Hey Dad?" I ask as I pull up another weed from our garden bed. Tending to the garden is our weekly daddy-daughter time. "If you needed to get your hands on a piece of paper with information on it, how would you go about it?"

Dad finishes digging out the weed he's on, and then sets his trowel aside, resting on his heels.

"That's a rather ambiguous question Mi-mi. You know I'm going to need more context than that to give you a proper answer."

I let out a breath and dig my fingers deep into the soft loam. It's soothing, really, to feel the slightly damp coolness against my skin. "Do you remember," I begin, knowing already that Dad wouldn't have forgotten, "a few weeks ago when I had to go to the academy in a transformation?" I watch a small bug crawl up the stalk of one of our bean plants. "Well, it was an assignment that they give to the third years, and if you're chosen to participate, you have to memorize a code, and then use that code to categorize the incoming first years."

I glance over at Dad, seeing if he understands where I'm going with this. His eyes are in their small, crinkly smile, and I know that I don't need to explain anymore.

"You want to get your hands on your class roster." It's more a statement than question as Dad resumes digging through the soil to mix in the fertilizer we purchased at the market earlier. I nod, pulling out another weed before crawling a bit further down the row.

"I've already tried a few different things, but none of them have worked, so I thought…" I trail off as I work on a particularly tough weed.

"You thought that maybe I could help you solve the problem," Dad finishes. "Well, to start, why don't you tell me what you've tried so we can discern what went wrong with those attempts and see how to proceed from there." I smile as I triumphantly tug the weed from the soil. This is why I love spending time with Dad. He just gets it, and I never have to worry about him judging me as I attempt to figure my life as a ninja out.

"My first attempt was actually crawling through the air ducts," I admit as I push the disturbed soil back into place.

"The what?" Dad sounds almost like he's choking.

"The academy's air ducts. I figured that no one would see me if I traveled through them, but I didn't take into account how dusty and nasty they were inside. I don't think they've been cleaned since the academy was built, Mom would be horrified by them." I laugh at the thought. "I ended up backing out halfway through because my sneezing was going to give me away."

"Miyo, how did you even know where to find the air ducts, and how did you know they were big enough to fit you?"

"Oh, that was the easy part. I just asked Hiashi and Hizashi Hyuga to help me. They used their creepy eyes to locate the records room and map out the school air duct system before class started, mm… about two weeks ago."

"They what? Wait, you're friends with the Hyuga heir?" I look over at Dad who is running a dirt covered hand through his hair, and I grimace. That's going to be gross to wash out later.

"Um, yes, and his twin brother too."

"And you somehow convinced them to help you with this?" Dad shakes his head in what I think is amusement, but I'm not positive.

"Well, sort of, I mean, I did use some of my kunoichi class skills on them, but they know I won't take no for an answer anyways, so I'm pretty sure they were resigned to helping me from the start. Plus, we have an agreement for things like this, wherein I don't tell them anything incriminating and they blame me for everything if I get caught."

I look up when I hear a strange sound, only to realize, to my shock, that Dad is laughing, actually laughing. It's quiet, and he's muffling the sound further in the crook of his elbow, but my Dad is laughing!

"Dad!" I huff, trying to play offended, but I can't stop a smile from tugging on my lips. I've never seen my dad laugh before.

"My girl," he laughs, "My sweet little Mi-Mi used her kunoichi skills on the heir to the Hyuga clan, and coerced him into helping her." My brain finds where my dad is going with this, and I feel the tips of my ears burn.

"Dad, I didn't mean like that!" I retort, tempted to throw a handful of dirt at him. "I didn't use _those_ techniques against him, that would just be gross. If I had to use those techniques against one of my friends, it definitely wouldn't be Hiashi."

"Oh?" My Dad says, having reigned his laughter back in like a good ninja should. "Then who _would_ you use _those_ techniques against?" I can tell he's mocking me by the twinkle in his eye, but he does also seem curious.

"This is way off the topic I wanted to talk to you about, Dad."

"Fine, fine. Can't blame your dad for being curious about who his little girl might be setting her sights on. Although, the Hyuga heir is an unrealistic target. His clan will already have someone that is arranged to marry him once he reaches a certain age. I can't say the same for his twin brother, though." This time I do throw a handful of dirt at my dad. "Okay, I get it. So, what else have you tried besides the air ducts?"

"Well," I think, sitting back so I can list them off on my fingers, "I tried mailing myself to the records office, but Noriyo wouldn't tape the box shut or sign off for the genin team doing the delivery, so that didn't work." My dad makes a sharp noise in the back of his throat. I turn toward him again, just in case I got to make him laugh twice in one day, but turn back to the weeds when I only find him staring at me, "I tried using chakra control and a chameleon technique I learned in kunoichi class to crawl along the ceiling and hide, but Professor Abe caught me."

"You know what, let's just stop right there, Miyo," my dad interrupts, a dumbfounded sort of tone in his voice. "I don't know where you got all those crazy ideas from, but just stop. I think you're overthinking things here."

I mull dad's words over in my head for a minute while he digests my previous plans, before suddenly realizing something.

"You're right, Dad!" I can feel the excitement building in me. "I have been thinking way too hard about this. I just need to go to the records office. If I act like I belong there, nobody will question it, and I'll be able to look for the form!"

"Wait, Miyo, that's..." Dad trails off, unsure how to continue.

"No, it'll work Dad. If you act like you belong, people don't have a reason to question it. I'll just fake that I have a note, get inside, find the paper, and get out. The academy has only been open a few years, so there can't be that many records to go through."

Dad simply shakes his head and goes back to working in the fertilizer. "Whatever you say Mi-mi." For some reason, he doesn't sound too sure.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

I stroll as confidently and casually as I can toward the teacher's lounge, acting with my every pore like I belong here and that I definitely know what I'm doing. After all, if I believe that I belong here, then other people will, too. It's the perfect plan.

I'm ten strides away from the door, the closest I've even been!

Eight strides, and I feel sweat bead on my forehead in excitement. This time, I'm definitely making it!

Five strides, and the door is opening from the inside. Oh dear.

Two strides and an unknown teacher walks out, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at me.

"No students allowed, no exceptions," she intones.

Drat!

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"So," I start casually, leaning my hip against the counter next to where my dad is cooking, "just walking into the records room didn't work."

A half smile tugs dad's lips, but he doesn't look away from the simmering pan of vegetables that he's leaning over, "No?" he asks.

"Nope," I pop the 'p,' folding my hands behind me back, "I need another idea," I tell my dad, "Maybe, oh, maybe I can scale the academy building at night and get in that way?" I wonder, turning so that my back is pressed against the counter and I can stare up at the ceiling in thought, my hands braced behind me on the counter "Or maybe I can illusion myself into a spider and get in that way?"

Dad snorts, stirring the contents of the pan once more before moving it away from the heat and turning to look at me, "Now, you're getting somewhere, Mi-Mi."

I raise an eyebrow, "With transforming into a spider?" I ask. I hadn't really been serious about it, holding an illusion for long enough to get into the room is hard enough, but to completely transform myself into a spider, which is so much smaller and differently shaped than I am, would be an impossible feat for me right now (and maybe for always —that sounds really hard, actually).

"Not into a spider," Dad tells me, a sardonic tone in his voice. I make a face at him. "But a transformation…" he trails off, giving me a significant look. "Who wouldn't be looked at twice for going into the records room, Miyo?"

I stare up at my dad, a slow feeling of dread filling my stomach, "Professor Abe will kill me if he finds out," I tell him.

"You can always go as one of the other teachers," Dad suggests, humor in his voice and in the corner of his eyes.

I slowly shake my head, slumping further into the counter, "Professor Abe is the only one I can observe for long enough and consistently enough to pull off the infiltration."

Dad teasingly pats my shoulder, "Good thing you've got all year then, isn't it? Now go get the plates and set the table."

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"Are we going to talk about how Professor Abe is actually here before everyone else today?" I ask Fugaku as I slip into my seat, turning in my chair so that I can see the somber Uchiha heir, "Do you think the world has ended?" I ask dryly, shooting a small smile at Caxin Shiranui, Fugaku's tablemate and my fellow third-year volunteer.

"Not everything that doesn't follow a pattern is suspicious, Miyo," Fugaku rolls his eyes. I raise an eyebrow and shake my head, sharing a quick look of wry humor with Caxin.

"You trust your eyes too much," I tell the haughty heir, "Professor Abe has never arrived before 0700 on the dot."

Caxin nods his agreement, "It _is_ a noted habit of the Professors'," he murmurs quietly, his face as serene and unreadable as it usually is.

Fugaku snorts, "You both have been overly paranoid since your were volunteered together," he turns to Caxin, "And how would you _even_ know?" Fugaku sneers, "You don't come to class more than half of the time!"

Caxin simply smiles at the challenge, a small quirk of the corner of his lips, his eyes half closed and peaceful. I snort, trying to hold in a laugh, regaining Fugaku's attention.

"Which just makes it more impressive that he noticed," I tease, reaching out and lightly tapping Fugaku's arm —my way of silently trying to reprimand my friend for being overly confrontational. Fugaku and Caxin, when the later bothers to show up for class, have never really gotten along.

Fugaku raises a superior eyebrow and shakes his head, hands braced flat against his desk. Wisely, the Uchiha heir returns to the point, "Maybe Professor Abe has something to announce," he suggests, a hint of derision in the back of his throat. Woops, it seems Caxin and I have struck some sort of nerve by ganging up on him. I offer my friend an apologetic shrug of my shoulders.

"Something bigger than the third-year volunteer tradition?" I ask, sceptical. Professor Abe has never showed up early to class, not for anything. I can't even imagine what would be important enough that he would do so now. It's not like Professor Abe is the sort to be easily rattled.

If Fugaku were any less the posh and proper heir of a clan that he is, I think he would have shrugged. As it is, he raises another eyebrow at me before turning his attention to the front of the classroom, obviously done with the topic of conversation. I sigh and share a commiserating look with Caxin (well, I try to, but that boy's face is as serene as a calm lake, which just makes me think that he's silently making fun of me) before turning toward in my chair to sit properly at my desk.

The class has silently filed in, probably quiet from the unexpected appearance of Professor Abe. I note that some students, like Jessiryn Rass look a bit panicked about the Professor being early, while the majority just look attentive (they look like mini-soldiers, ready to receive their orders). Am I really the only one to think it truly weird and out of character for Abe to be here before class starts?

When the clock strikes the hour, everyone around me straightens in their chairs, prepared to hear the reason Professor Abe is already here. I stubbornly stay slumped in my desk, wearily eyeing my classmates.

Professor Abe doesn't start barking out orders, though. Nor does he seem to have anything to announce. Instead, he starts in on basic sealing theory, our review topic for the morning. A general buzz of tense confusion permeates from the students, and I can't help the frown that furrows my brows.

An hour into class, when the tension has drained out of everyone and Professor Abe continues to lecture, I've pulled a few thoughts together:

Pre-Experiment Observations: Professor Abe is acting suspiciously out of character for no given reason: he arrived early, he's talking faster than normal, he isn't asking the class any questions as per his usual, and the one time Aburame raised his hand to ask a question, Abe seemed to nervously move to clasp his hands together before stopping, a nervous tick that he hasn't shown before.

Purpose of Experiment: To explore the possibility that there is a spy in our midst.

Hypothesis: Someone is infiltrating our class —Professor Abe isn't Professor Abe.

Observations: In account of the on-going third year infiltration exam, wherein anyone could be anyone and us students are supposed to be identifying infiltrators, I've taken to watching fake-Abe and my fellow classmates thoroughly. No student is missing today, and seeing as how we are the only third-year class this year, I can only assume one of two things: one of my classmates is posing as Professor Abe, as part of the third year exam, and Professor Abe has taken the student's place to watch us; or there is a _real_ spy playing the part of my academy teacher.

Observation Amendment: I've decided that, if one of my fellow students has, indeed, taken Professor Abe's place, there is a possibility that the student in question, instead of being replaced by Professor Abe, could, in fact, be a clone.

Experimental Design: I've discarded the idea of confronting fake-Abe head on. If he is a real spy from outside the village, such an action could cause collateral damage that I and my fellow students are unprepared to deal with, especially against an enemy that has hypothetically taken out Professor Abe to take his place. Instead, to test the idea that one of my classmates is actually A) Professor Abe playing the part of the student or B) a clone, I've decided to try and disrupt my classmates as much as possible. To start, I will do a chakra sweep, to evaluate my classmates individually.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I slump further down in my seat, feigning disinterest (something the real Abe would notice and try and fix by asking questions, but since I'm dealing with fake-Abe, who seems to be staying away from engaging with us students, I can get away with it). Starting with my table mates, I slowly open up my senses to the chakra around me.

Sensing chakra, for me, is less of a sixth sense sort of deal, and more of an extra sensation that plays across my skin. Each of my classmates chakra _feels_ different to me. Professor Abe (the real one) had explained that chakra interacts with everyone's nervous systems differently, so everyone senses chakra differently.

Some people taste chakra, like they would taste iron in the back of their throats, or copper under their tongues (this one is the rarest, and Professor Abe assured us that it isn't like someone would be tasting food all the time —apparently most people's chakra tastes more like minerals than like any sort of food). Others see it, like doujutsu users. Others, still, hear it or smell it or (like I do) feel it.

So I go about feeling up my classmates' chakra. Over the years I've become pretty familiar with all of my classmates chakra, so hopefully this will help me suss out if someone is off or if there's a clone where there should be a person (I don't have the right vantage point to check if everyone has a shadow or not).

My tablemates, Riko and Senshi, by all accounts seem normal —Riko's chakra feels smooth and luxurious, an unexpected combination for a boy that doesn't belong to a renowned clan, and Senshi's is as dry and boring as he is. Mentally giving them the all clear, I use a much more delicate touch to test the Hyuga twins, keeping my chakra as light and as quick as possible, so as to not draw attention from the byakugan users.

The next hour of class goes on like this, sprinkled with half heart attacks and false positives as I test my classmates' chakra. The good news? There is no sign of a clone amongst my classmates —everyone's chakra feels and is acting exactly as they're supposed to.

The bad news? One option eliminated means that there is now a forty percent possibility of the fake-Abe being a real infiltrator (I took ten percent off the chances, just because it seems so implausible to me that anyone could get the better of Professor Abe and Abe is definitely good enough to illusion his chakra to exactly match one of my classmates'). Also: Shibi Aburame and his magic chakra bugs have definitely noticed that I've been scanning everyone. Woops.

I eye the clan heir, sitting calmly but with tense shoulders at the front of the classroom. Time to make sure that my mistake in getting caught doesn't actually come back to bite me. At least with his operational bugs, I know that he's himself. Plus, I've exhausted what I can do by myself. Time to get some help with this operation.

Slinking back in my chair, I turn a sharp eye on the classroom, starting in the corning above the door, I sweep the entire room. There, in a crack on the ceiling, is a little bug with gossamer green wings. The kikaichu being out is an invitation from Aburame to send a message.

Thinking quickly, I pool a small amount of chakra to the tip of my finger and begin tracing out a quick message on my desk, making sure to maintain enough chakra through it so the message stays steady —it's a method we all learned toward the end of last year, a way to leave messages that clans like the Aburame and the Hyuga have been trained to pick up.

 _fake-Abe_

 _infil. test or intruder?_

 _no clones_

Over the years, I've practiced a lot of chakra control exercises. Some, like the tree walking exercise, I do pretty well with. Others, like creating chakra strings… well. Let's just say that I'm not cut out to be a puppeteer.

I can feel sweat start to bead at my forehead as I form a chakra string, sending it out toward the little insect on the ceiling. The farther it gets, the harder it is to control. Not that chakra is bound by the laws of gravity or anything, but the more I inch it away from my own core of chakra, the more it starts to get attracted to the natural chakra that permeates the air. The best way I understand it, is that 'like is attracted to like.'

Chakra is attracted to itself in the same way that water is attracted to itself. The natural fluctuations of chakra cause brief, but strong outburst of positive and negative chakra, or yin and yang chakra. These fluctuations constantly change and either attract and repulse their opposites; positive to negative, yin to yang causes an attraction. Positive to positive, negative to negative causes a repulsion.

Hand signs control these fluctuations, shaping them into something useable and reliable. Each seal causes different bursts of yin and yang chakra in differing ratios at different chakra nodes throughout the body, causing a ninja's chakra to twist and attach to itself in different ways. Each added seal compounds the twisting until you get a chakra shape primed and ready for a jutsu.

This compounded twisting of chakra is what makes creating new techniques so difficult, and it's also why Lord Tobirama, who is a prodigy at creating new jutsu, is so widely feared and respected.

Chakra control exercises, like creating chakra strings, on the other hand, don't involve hand seals so there's no controlling the bursts of yin and yang peaks. As I extend the chakra away from me, random fluctuations along the chakra string peek out and try to grab hold of the responding fluctuations in the natural chakra in the air and stick to it, making the string much harder to keep control over. I imagine that this would be ten times harder if I were outside where natural chakra is a little more predominate. And harder still, if there was any sort of jutsu battle happening.

Seriously, puppeteering is not for me.

It's an agonizing five minutes, fraught with tension and shaking hands, until finally I manage to connect the small string to the little kikaichu insect. Note to self: work on chakra control exercises that involve extending my chakra away from my body. I shake my head, a tad bit self-depreciative. That could have gone so much better, if I had bothered to practice earlier.

The little chakra sensitive bug immediately takes hold of the chakra string and starts feeding, following the string back to my desk quicker than I thought it would. I slump back in my chair in relief and disconnect the string from my finger to my scrawled chakra message, watching the little bug scuttle all over the invisible message before taking off, dodging through the feet of my classmates back to its master.

I hope my message makes it to the bug-user. I'm not as familiar with the Aburame clan as I am with the Uchiha and Hyuga clans, and I don't have much practice leaving chakra messages. Whatever, though, the message has been sent (hopefully), and maybe Aburame can do some investigating of his own.

I sit back and continue to watch fake-Abe as I wait for Aburame to get back to me somehow. We've got about three hours still until lunch break (the perils of the weekly lecture day, wherein we spend all day indoors), and I'd like this whole thing figured out by then. Stressful lunches are no fun.

Fake-Abe continues to lecture, and if that is one of my classmates, I kind of feel a bit bad for them. They would have had to memorize a lot of material in preparation for today. He's is still talking too fast, though, and he wearily eyes students who so much as twitch in their chairs. How do the other students not see this? How is a whole room full of third-year academy students ignoring all the signs of infiltration? Or are there others, like me, but they're better at hiding their suspicions?

I swallow a groan and lean my head on my hands. This infiltration nonsense is making me think in circles. I need to calm down. What have I learned? Fake-Abe is showing obvious signs of being a novice infiltrator with his nervous tics and imperfect acting (minor though they may be), so the chances of him being from outside the village are very small. There is an ongoing third-year exam on infiltration, so the chances of fake-Abe being one of my classmates are very high. I wasn't able to detect the distinct chakra of a clone in the classroom, so it is likely that Professor Abe and a student have switched places for the day.

Professor Abe is also a teacher, so it is likely that he has left some sort of way for us to weed him out. I just have to find it.

Right.

I take a deep breath and raise my head from my hands, running my fingers through my hair and I once again take the time to concentrate on fake-Abe. Professor Abe is very much out of my league, so I shouldn't be concentrating on him. I should be concentrating on fake-Abe. Make him give more away. Get the other students suspicious. I can do that.

I raise my hand.

Fake-Abe does a good job at controlling his brief panic, but, maybe because I'm looking for it, I see the same nervous tick as I had before —a quick move of his hands together, before stopping himself, a silent gesture of self comfort.

"Nakamura," fake-Abe dryly addresses me.

"Sorry Professor, but I have a quick question on sealing arrays," I modulate my tone, making sure that I give nothing away. Fake-Abe nods, a quick gesture of his hand telling me to get on with it. "I've always been confused on the longevity of sealing, especially for barriers." I continue, keeping a careful eye on my fake professor, "If we only feed the seals once, how do they remain functional?"

Out of the corner of my periphery, I can see a few of my classmates rolling their eyes. I can understand the gesture. Long term seals are made with either a natural chakra component to keep the array functional, or they're made with a chakra packet that needs to be recharged every time it runs low. I know that. The class knows that. The real Abe _knows_ that I know that (I aced the last sealing exam), but the purpose of this whole thing is to see how fake-Abe will react, and to hopefully get the class suspicious of those reactions.

Fake-Abe raises an incredulous eyebrow, a familiar gesture that inspires shame in many a student. A gesture that Professor Abe is very much known for. Drat.

"Well, class?" Professor Abe asks, his voice crackling over the long vowels, "Who can answer Nakamura's question?" Smart man, this fake-Abe. Turning it over to the students, to keep the attention off him and on me.

Jessiryn Rass, the consummate teacher's pet, immediately speaks up, looking over her shoulder to give me a superior look before turning back to fake-Abe, droning on and on about natural chakra arrays vs. draining arrays (the short-hand way of saying sealing arrays that need to be recharged). What an oblivious brat.

It wasn't a complete waste of time, though, I see. The Hyuga twins in front of me have tensed, and a quick reach of my chakra shows the distinct chakra impression that their byakugan has been turned on. Since I'm already slumped down on my chair, it's easy to slide my foot forward, nudging the back of Hiashi's chair. Once done, and with hopes that they're really paying attention, I sign under my desk:

 _infiltrator. A-B-E. disrupt operation._

A quick shift of Hizashi's shoulder is an affirmative. I grin. If I can't out whomever is playing Abe by myself, I suppose I'll just have to get the rest of the class in on it. I eye Rass, who is just winding down from her lecture on sealing arrays. Okay, maybe not everyone in the class.

As fake-Abe once again takes over the lecture, I see that Inuzuka and his puppy, Jerens, as well as his tablemates are now sitting up straight and paying more attention than they usually do to the Professor. It seems like Aburame had the same idea.

I'm about to raise my hand and ask another obvious question, when I see Hiashi's hand appear behind his back, his fingers quickly signing out _sight blocked. seal. A-B-E. U-C-H-I-H-A. N-A-R-A. R-A-S-S._

I idly scratch at my chin, noticing Inuzuka raise his hand out of the corner of my eye. A seal blocking the byakugan, on fake-Abe and on three desks: Fugaku's, Noriyo's, and Rass'. The seals must have been placed just so on each desk to create a mini chakra wall that the Hyuga brothers couldn't see through. Each desk holds three students, that's nine possibilities. We're narrowing things down. Good.

Okay, so how to deal with that? If one of us can locate the seals, it should be pretty simple to just over load it. I mean, that would be giving away the operation, so to speak, but if we can do all three desk-seals at once, that should amount to a win on our part.

I slide my hand into the first sign, _synchronize,_ under my desk when fake-Abe calls on Inuzuka.

"Where is the real Professor Abe?" Inuzuka demands standing up and slapping his hand down on the desk, his puppy echoing him with a high-pitched bark. I slap my hand across my face, wincing. There goes that plan, I guess.

There's a hush of shocked silence in the room as students look between each other, most of them looking rather confused. I sigh —loudly. Students and fake-Abe alike turn to look at me.

"You're an idiot, Inuzuka," I drawl, annoyed. Things had been going so well! If the Hyuga twins and I had had time, we totally could have released the seals and found the real Professor Abe. It would have been epic. Professor Abe might have even _smiled_ at us.

Inuzuka's face scrunches up in a scowl, "Abe's totally a fake, Nakamura!" he shouts, gesturing, "Just cuz you're too stupid to see it, doesn't mean that I'm not!"

I repress a sneer and just raise an eyebrow at the boy, crossing my arms. It had been petty of me to draw attention to myself in the first place, just to insult the boy. I don't need to say any more.

I see Aburame shift in his seat and turn to face me, his brows drawn down, but his face otherwise hidden by his high collared coat and dark sunglasses, "I apologize, Nakamura," the boy says to me in his usual monotone voice, "I had thought he would be more discreet."

I shrug, turning my attention to the awkwardly quiet fake-Abe, "It's fine," I murmur, ignoring the continuing cacophony of my classmates. I have one chance, now, to guess who fake-Abe is. My personal pride is at stake.

One last review of the facts.

Fake-Abe is one of nine students, except Caxin has already been tested. So, eight students (though it would be rather devious if it were Caxin). Fake-Abe has a nervous tick where he tries to clasp his hands together, as if he wants to create a seal —probably the snake seal, which is the seal predominantly used to start fire jutsus. The fake also has a tendency to raise one eyebrow, especially when confronted with something he thinks we should know already.

And I have one friend who didn't quite seem himself today…

Slowly I turn in my seat and look up toward Fugaku, noticing that Caxin, too, seems to be staring at my friend —or, well. My teacher.

"That was really tricky of you, Professor," I tell him, making an effort to keep a nervous smile off my face.

Fugaku's face pulls into a sneer. "Hn, you actually think I'm an imposter?" I meet him eye-to-eye, unwilling to back down, even with the uncertain pit of lava I feel growing in my stomach. After a long several seconds that has the class buzzing quietly, Fugaku relents. "Not bad." A small amount of smoke fills my vision, revealing Professor Abe in Fugaku's place, still in traditional Uchiha clothes. Another quick hand sign later and the clothes are replaced with Abe's traditional chunin uniform.

"I know how you figured this out, but before we break down how you went about attempting to expose it, explain to your peers what gave Uchiha away," Professor Abe says, gesturing towards the front of the classroom where Fugaku is now standing in his own appearance, his hair cut shorter than it usually is, and a chunin vest is slung over one of his arms.

I nod and systematically lay out the flaws in Fugaku's disguise, from the early arrival to the incorrect or unusual habits. Fugaku doesn't seem happy about it, but gives a small nod of recognition to my words as he trades places with Professor Abe and takes back his seat.

"Very good," Abe says, his dry voice cracking a bit, "many of you need to learn to pay better attention. The difference in arrival time was the only planned part of our switch, to give you a heads up that something was wrong. Only a handful or so of you bothered to take note of it in such a manner." A brief headnod is given to me and Caxin, and I do my best not to gloat.

"Now, Nakamura did more than merely notice the infiltrator, she set about trying to expose him. Having the vantage point of sitting behind her, I was able to watch the entire process. Using her limited knowledge of the Aburame clan and it's insects, she drew the attention of Aburame using a chakra message and chakra string to attract one of his insects." In the front row, Aburame nods his head, dipping it deeper into his coat.

"Once the message was sent, Nakamura proceeded to try and make the imposter oust himself in a nonconfrontational way by asking a question. Uchiha was avoiding interaction with the class as he only had a memorized lesson script to go off of. By diverting attention from himself to another student, Uchiha was able to remain safe in his disguise, but the attempt paid off in alerting a few other students.

"Through an excellent use of the Hyuga Byakugan, Nakamura was able to communicate with them through hand signs without exposing that they were up to something, and they had plans to take down the seal barrier Uchiha and I set up prior to class to prevent the Byakugan from seeing through his disguise.

"However," Abe continued, his voice gaining an extra dryness, the kind that let us know he wasn't happy, "some of you," Yuma Inuzuka flinched in his seat, "don't have enough patience and prefer a more direct route."

I hold in a smug smirk at the Inuzuka's discomfort. It's not my fault he did what he did.

"Nakamura."

Straightening in my seat, I reply; "Yes, Professor?"

"Explain to the class why you didn't take such a direct approach yourself." Oh boy, if Inuzuka didn't hate me already, he was really going to hate me now. Not that I really care, but still, I can see him being annoying about this later.

"Because, if this was a real situation; which I couldn't guarantee it wasn't, the infiltrator would have most likely been someone beyond my skill level to incapacitate. Boldly declaring that they were a fake could have lead to a conflict where one or more of the class were injured or killed from lack of preparedness or even awareness of the situation they were in. By taking the time to gain allies, I had hoped to avoid such a scenario, and perhaps to even catch the infiltrator in a trap."

"Excellent reasoning, Nakamura." I'm happy with the praise, but I'm ready to be out of the spotlight. I'm actually starting to feel just a little bit bad for Inuzuka who has turned a darker shade of red than I knew was humanly possible.

"Uchiha, did you have any idea what was transpiring around the classroom as you taught?"

Fugaku's voice is tight when he responds, a sure sign that he's not happy with himself. "No, Sir. I knew Miyo was onto me, if only because of paranoia, but that was all."

Abe nods, and directs his attention to the front row. "Aburame, tell me why you chose to alert Inuzuka to the situation. I did not see it, but I'm sure you also responded back to Nakamura through your insects."

"Your assumption is correct, if only because Nakamura was acting as the leader and so both deserved and needed feedback to better formulate her plan. I alerted Yuma because I believed he and Jerens would be able to use their heightened senses once aware of the situation to help not only identify, but oust the imposter. I did not take into account that he might avoid all forms of tact in such a situation."

Aburame looks up at me again when he finishes speaking, and I send him the quick signal for all is okay to which he nods. I can't really blame him, his reasoning was sound, and you'd think with all the training we've had that Inuzuka would have known better.

"There is a lot to be learned from this infiltration attempt. I expect the next attempt to go better on both sides, and for the situation to be treated more seriously. Inuzuka, while your clan is known for being straightforward and more for fighting than other things, directly attacking an unknown variable can lead to the death of you and your peers. Take that into consideration before you act in the future."

"Yes, Professor," Inuzuka says quietly. Jerens is laying beneath him with his tail tucked in between his legs.

"Uchiha," I can feel Fugaku come to attention behind me, "next time you attempt an infiltration, try to rid yourself of nervous ticks. They were quite prevalent as you became more stressed from your situation." I hear a quiet "Hn" from behind me, and I think the Hyuga twins are silently laughing in their heads, since they would never laugh out loud.

"Nakamura," I focus my attention fully on Professor Abe. Whenever we do something like this, none of the main players escape correction afterwards. "Your efforts weren't bad, but in a scenario where time is of the essence, they were rather slow which could have cost lives. Work on finding better ways to quickly and secretively get information to your allies." I give a brief nod, it's about what I expected to hear.

"As for the rest of you," Abe continues, "learn to pay better attention to your surroundings and allies. Too many of you didn't even notice something was wrong until it was far too late. When you graduate from the academy to the genin corp, you will be the village's first defense against intruders disguised as citizens. Your time spent doing D-rank missions is not just to make you perform manual labor that other ninja would rather not, but for you to become intimately aware of the people in the village, and able to report suspicious persons to your commanders so they can be monitored and dealt with accordingly."

Professor Abe lets the silence settle over the class for a bit, as we mull over what he's told us in our heads, his eyes roving over us students. The class begins to straighten to attention around me as Professor Abe allows a small amount of killing intent to fill the room. I fight against memories of another death, a dull ache in my chest. Turning my attention inwards towards my chakra, I use a chakra flowing technique Hanami taught me to steady myself so I can pay attention, since what Professor Abe has to say next is probably important.

"Lord Tobirama has declared the official start of the biennial Ninja Games to be three days from today," Abe's rasping voice cracks through the silence, and there's a split second of stunned disbelief before a ragged, battle ready sort of air settles over the class, laying over my classmates, one by one.

I can see the Hyuga twins in front of me tensing in their seats, their shoulders drawing up into one solid line of determination. Over near the windows, Noriyo Nara deigns to lift her head, an expression of passive interest stealing over her profile. Near the door, Yuma Inuzuka perks up from his shamed slump, a wide, cheshire grin splitting his face as his dog lets out a challenging, hair raising-growl, suddenly more nin-dog than adorable puppy.

My classmates stare each other down, fire in their eyes and steel down their spines. All of this happening around me, but I see it as if from a distance.

The Ninja Games.

 _The Ninja Games._

A chance for genin and genin-hopefuls to pit their skills against one another and fight for the chance to impress the Hokage and apprentice under a jounin. I slowly lower my eyes to my clenched hands, wrapped tight around each other on top of my desk.

* * *

Tada! After weeks of rewritten chapters, you finally got to read a brand new one. :)

Thanks for all the follows, favorites, and reviews! We're getting pretty close to the 100 mark for followers, and that has us super excited. In celebration of this astounding amount of support, we're posting this lovely chapter a day early. Thanks so much, you guys!

Below, we have included some deleted scenes from the original chapter six we had written that didn't make the cut when we restructured and changed the tone of the story. Short though they are, we thought you may enjoy a view from behind the drawing board. Reading them or choosing not too, will not affect your understanding of the story. They're just for fun.

As you guys know, this is the last chapter of our once-a-week update streak. Chapters after this one will come when we can get them out.

~The Splits

* * *

 **DELETED SCENES/BLOOPERS/WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL THESE THINGS**

Army crawling through air ducts is not nearly as glamorous as Hollywood made it out to be in the movies. I'm just entering my tenth year in this life and I barely have room to move around, let alone a full sized adult. Screw you Hollywood. This myth has been busted. Not to mention that the dust, and therefore other people's dead skin cells, is out of control in here. Gross! Doesn't anyone ever clean this thing out?

After stifling what has to be my hundredth sneeze, I start worming my way toward the nearest exit (which leads to a bathroom, I believe). This is not working. I'll just try another way to get to the teacher's lounge Hiashi and Hizashi told me about. But first, I need a really _really_ long shower.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"No."

"Come on, Noriyo," I say as I stick my foot in the door to keep her from shutting it on me. "I made it really easy for you. All you have to do is tape the box shut for me."

"While _you're_ in it." The door is really starting to hurt my foot now.

"Exactly!"

"No."

I glare at Noriyo who returns it with her own apathetic one through the cracked open door. Is that the sound of my metatarsals threatening to crack?

"No."

"Can you at least stop trying to break my foot with your front door?" Since when did she get so much strength —or the motivation to use it at least? Is it just a really bad angle for my foot? I should probably invest in some real boots, not these opened toed ninja sandal things. They don't offer any foot protection at all.

"Not until you agree to stop being stupid."

"You do realize that I've already commissioned a genin team with a D-rank in your name to come and collect this package and deliver it to the teacher's lounge, right?"

"Extra stupid." Okay, forget boots, I'm going to need a robotic foot. Ouch!

"Noriyo, my foot!"

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"Spider-ninja! Spider-ninja! Does whatever a spider-ninja does!" I sing softly to myself as I crawl along the ceiling using chakra to secure my legs and forearms to the surface. Most ninja would consider this to be rather stupid and a waste of time, but to a me from another world, this is one of the coolest things ever. Not to mention, this is harder than it looks and makes for a great way to work on increasing my chakra control.

"Can she swing —from a web? Yes she can, 'cause she's a spider-ninja!" Pausing at the sound of someone coming, I lace my fingers into the basic chameleon technique Hanami taught me and double check that I have my chakra suppressed. I can't maintain the camouflage while I'm moving, but I've gotten really good at the jutsu while holding still.

I hold my breath as Professor Abe rounds the corner with another Professor I don't recognize. They're looking at something attached to a clipboard. This academy just loves its clipboards, and soon I will have my hands on the paper from the first clipboard I ever saw.

I can only internally curse as the pair stops almost directly beneath me. If I wasn't so scared about moving and dispelling the technique, I might try to read what's on the clipboard, but my _real_ curiosity keeps this smaller one at bay.

After a long minute, the other professor walks away leaving Professor Abe who starts in the direction of our classroom. Shoot! Class must be starting soon —I didn't realize how long it had taken me to move around like this.

"I don't know why you're on the ceiling, and I don't want to know, Nakamura," Professor Abe says when he's moved several paces away. I can feel my jaw hanging open. "You should ask Shiranui about perfect chakra concealment the next time he's in class. Speaking of which, you have thirty seconds before you're late."

 **END OF DELETED SCENES**

Catch you guys later!


	7. Legacy of a Loser

Posted: 3/1/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Seven: Legacy of a Loser

By unspoken decision Noriyo, Hizashi, Hiashi, Fugaku and I gather together in a loose circle underneath my tree after being dismissed from class. As I stare between my friends, I realize that, for the first time, Noriyo, the twins, Fugaku… they all match. Normally the only commonality between those four is that they're all part of major Konoha clans, and that gives them a sort of solidarity and shared responsibility that I've never totally understood, but now…

Each face before me, from the proud Uchiha, to the strict Hyuga, to the calculating Nara, shares the same smug smirk, brought on by the same event: the Ninja Games. Not since the first day of class over three years ago have I felt this uncomfortable in front of these would-be child soldiers.

"My father's been hinting that something big would happen soon," Fugaku smirks, "He's probably already got someone lined up to train me before the Games."

Hiashi scoffs, waving one hand through the air, "As if having another Uchiha train you will help with your chances." Friendly rivalry, or true malice? The jury is still out on that one.

I catch Hizashi eyeing his twin brother, and I pause at the sneer on his lips. I subtly turn and try to draw Noriyo's eye, wondering if she's seeing the same thing, but the uncharacteristic determination on her face as her eyes flicker between the boys catches me off guard. Where did my lazy friend go? What is going on with these people?

"The Ninja Games are the only way to skip the tedium of the genin corps," Noriyo drawls, her usual monotonous voice ruined by the challenge radiating from her being, her chakra a sinuous, smoky taunt flaring from her core, "The winner and anyone who shows enough talent to catch the attention of a jounin will be pulled from the corps for an apprenticeship," here, Noriyo smiled, a dark sort of condescending smile, "In the twelve years since the Games have started, a Nara has won three times, and runners up have been selected every year."

The boys straighten and turn toward Noriyo, their own chakra's rising in challenge. I grimace and take a small step back, shuddering under the combined mass of feelings their chakra produce, wondering if I can just walk away and be done with this whole charade.

Unfortunately, my movement draws their attention, and four sharp pairs of eyes turn on me. For the first time in a long time, since I was that little girl in the dirt with Sota teasing me, I feel like an outsider, a misfit that doesn't belong here with these people.

"Knock it off, would you?" I say, my defensive side getting the better of me as I adjust my body so I can quickly leave if needs be, my hands automatically curling close together, ready to fold into the first sign of a replacement jutsu. "I can't say I understand what's gotten into you guys, but you should all know that when it comes to fighting, I'm the last person you have to worry about having competition from."

My words don't seem to to relax anyone, though. "Miyo," Fugaku slowly starts, a hard note of steel in his voice, "The Ninja Games aren't like the taijutsu lessons and spars we have at school. They'll also be looking for ninja adept at things like sabotage."

I shrug, sliding my hands behind my back and clenching them together, "I still don't see why that would make you worry about _me_ ," I tell them, being, perhaps, a tad bit heavy handed in projecting my obliviousness.

Noriyo rolls her eyes, "Come on, Miyo," she scoffs, "Even if you're just about the worst at anything confrontational like taijutsu, everyone knows that you're the best at misdirection and infiltration." Hizashi nods in agreement, and for a moment it looks like my being difficult about this is getting the group to relax again. Good.

"I still don't get it," I declare mulishly —how much is too much? I just want my friends to get along again, "None of that guarantees that I would be a good competitor." This group of people, of all people, should know that, even if I did stand a chance in the Ninja Games, I wouldn't ever enter them. I'm competitive, but I'm not out to try and prove myself in front of the Hokage as a competent fighter, no thank you!

Fugaku and Noriyo exchange glances full of meaning before they both shrug, seemingly okay with letting the subject drop. Hizashi, though..

"Don't be purposely obtuse, Miyo," he scolds, a sneer stretching his lips unattractively, "You almost just single handedly took control of Professor Abe's test today. If Inuzuka hadn't messed up, the class would have passed the test, and it would have been under _your_ leadership."

I frown, shaking my head, "Just because I can spot an infiltration, doesn't mean _anything_ ," I sneer right back, still feeling a bit stung on just how out of my control the test had turned out to be. "And my plan _did_ fail. That doesn't exactly look good."

Hizashi's sneer deepens, but before he can say anything Hiashi speaks up, his voice a soft command "No, brother. Miyo is right. She isn't cut out for being a real ninja, we all know that," Hiashi turns straight toward me, "In reality, Miyo, you won't pass the graduation exam —you're useless, as a ninja. It's best that you know that now."

Straight, blunt, to the point —like he's doing me a favor!— and I have never felt so _angry_ before. For as long as I've known him, Hiashi has always been arrogant, and I've known from the beginning that his personality leans more toward douche-bag-jerk than anything softer, but I had always figured that he had still viewed me as a… a friend!

Fine. I stare down Hiashi, but take the time to pay attention to my periphery. I examine each of my friends —tense, but not like they disagreed. More like Hiashi is telling me something they had all agreed not to bring up.

Fine.

They want me to prove my competency as a ninja? I can do that.

"Take care, Hiashi," I purr, taking an aggressive step forward, "You're starting to sound like you feel threatened."

"Hardly," Hiashi drawls, his eyes narrowing minutely. "Your words are nothing more than that, words. You can't prove them, and even if you did take action, you wouldn't be able to hurt me."

I smirk, the eerie kind of half smirk that makes a person's hair stand on end. "There is more than one way to hurt a person, Hiashi," my eyes flick to Hizashi's forehead. "I thought your clan would have made you quite aware of that by now." Everyone around me tenses; after the first week of Hizashi coming to the academy with his forehead covered, we had wordlessly agreed to avoid the topic, an agreement I that I'm not quite breaking, but am very close too.

"I can face the facts, but can you handle me proving myself, to you, to all of you?" I ask, my eyes roving around my circle of friends even as my hands move into action. A moment later, I'm in Hiashi's spot, and he's in mine, but I don't stop there.

"I'm faster." Two hand signs, and Noriyo and I have traded places. Slower, this time, because of increased resistance, but it's almost laughingly easy to counter Noriyo's weak defense.

The replacement jutsu isn't really meant to be used to replace yourself with other people, especially people with active chakra control —it's why they came up with the body flicker technique. But my friends are thrown off balance, right now, and untrained in resisting my manipulation of their chakra.

I grin in satisfaction, it's almost too easy.

"I'm trickier." A quick series of four handsigns, three traditional signs for the replacement jutsu (I've dropped two of them), and an extra one to direct the jutsu away from me. I flare my chakra, some of which snaps out toward my friends. Fugkau and Hizashi trade places.

My hand moves into a single sign, four replicas split off from me, perfect illusion clones.

As one, my images lift a hand into a single handed jutsu that causes minor auditory distortions. As one, we speak, "I am dangerous." Two handsigns, and we all disappear, each reappearing behind one of my friends. "True, I can't physically hurt you, but I can do so. Much. Worse."

"Stop playing around, Miyo!" Fugaku growls, Sharingan spinning to life in his eyes. It's about time. I had expected him to try and regain control of things ages ago.

"Why?" I ask, my voice nearly cracking. "Does it bother you, seeing what I am capable of?" I allow my copies to disappear as two sets of Byakugan activate as well, leaving the illusions completely pointless as I begin weaving another, more subtle jutsu of five seals that I recently learned during some supplementary reading for Kunoichi class.

"Fugaku," I nearly coo, smirking in glee as I watch him twitch at the sound. I run my finger along his arm as he jerks away. I reappear next to Hiashi, my jutsu taking hold. The boy stiffens and relaxes instantaneously as my voice forces him to calm and be drawn to my allure. "Hiashi."

"I thought you weren't going to practice those kind of techniques on the boys, Miyo." I smile dangerously, glancing down with my eyes at the shadow reaching for mine. I laugh, but it comes out as more of a bark.

"What? Can't handle the fact that I can actually be competition, just not in the way you're used too? My kunai may not be very dangerous, but my words can bite deep, take root in your mind." I play it up, hugging Hiashi's arm to me as I turn to Noriyo, smirking, "I can follow you around without you knowing, give away your disguises, run off before you can catch me, spread lies that everyone will believe."

I turn my head to Hiashi as I feel Noriyo's shadow connect. "I can be a ninja, _Heir Hyuga_ , just not the kind most people think of, and that's what scares you. I'm an unknown, a wild piece, will I be a queen or a pawn? You can't gauge my abilities because you don't understand them, and what people don't understand, they fear. Especially people like _you_ , who are _so_ used to being the one in control of everything. I am your greatest fear."

"Nonsense!" Hiashi nearly hisses, his stance one of guarded aggression as he finally shakes me off his arm. "Why would I be afraid of someone like _you_? You can't even fight!"

And then everything shifts, as Hizashi steps between Hiashi and I. Almost immediately I open my mouth, completely prepared to try and verbally flay Hizashi as I had Hiashi, but...

"No, Miyo is right," Hizashi says, facing Hiashi, he's tense in front of me, but he seems determined. "You can't predict her, can't _control_ her, that makes you nervous. You _do_ fear Miyo. You fear anything that you think will show everyone that you're not as perfect as you think you are. "

"Hizashi!" Hiashi snaps, a wild sort of anger in his voice, in his eyes, in his chakra. "Know your place!"

"I am well aware of my place, _Brother_. Noriyo," he barks, startling everyone, "release Miyo." I feel the hesitance in Noriyo's shadow, but after a moment, I'm free to move again, and I give a nod of thanks to Hizashi as he looks over his shoulder at me. It seems like my show has been hijacked

"None of us thought much of Miyo at first, but we all know just how talented she is. How much _better_ she is than us at most everything that doesn't involve causing someone pain." Hizashi turns to face me fully, his Byakugan active as he eyes the others for a long moment.

"I don't think any of us found the answer we were looking for, when we befriended Miyo. Instead we found something else, something that scared us to the core, so we ignored it, and kept looking for what we wanted to find."

"Stop talking in riddles!" Fugaku growls. "Get to the point already."

"Miyo, you're strong," Hizashi says, looking me straight in the eye; which can be a little unsettling when his Byakugan is active like it is. "But, your strengths lie in areas that aren't commonly acknowledged as strength. I've watched your transformations ever since the third year trial, and they keep getting better and better at an astounding rate."

Hizashi sweeps his arm around the area underneath my tree, "You just proved to us what you are capable of. Outside of your kunoichi jutsus, we could all do the jutsus you just performed, but not with less than the full amount of handsigns, like you did. Not with the small amount of smoke you produced. None of us, that I know of, can perform a one handed jutsu like you just did."

A silence permeates the group as Hizashi takes a moment to gather his breath, and turns to face Hiashi again. "You want to know what you're scared of, Brother? You're afraid that, even if you're the best fighter out there, even if you know more jutsus than anyone, there will be people out there that can beat you.

"You're afraid that, even though everyone looks up to you and respects you, even though our parents love you more, and even though the elders think that you're the best choice for clan heir, you don't deserve it because some people are _better_."

Hiashi stares at his brother, a hard look in his eyes. He opens his mouth, as if to speak, before shaking his head and turning away. A burst of speed and a leap into the trees, and he's gone. Silence settles over the rest of the group, before Fugaku snorts.

"You sure do know how to make things dramatic, Miyo," he murmurs, meeting my eyes before he turns, "I'm leaving," he announces, "Good luck with the competition, Miyo, Nara." He ignores Hizashi and leaps away in the opposite direction Hiashi had disappeared in.

Noriyo sighs, offers Hizashi and I a shrug, before she ambles away, waving her hand behind her back. All at once, I'm left alone with Hizashi.

I clear my throat, turning to meet the Hyuga's eyes, now void of the byakugan. "Thank you," I offer, a bit weakly.

Hizashi shrugs, his hands in his pockets, "I know what it is like to be looked over and feared," he says quietly, "This wasn't just for you."

I nod, fighting against a smile. The poor boy really looks like he can't handle more emotion right now.

"Will you get in trouble?" I ask, a tad bit nervous. Did I have the right to ask this? Or am I walking all over the lines my friend has drawn?

Hizashi's eyes sharpen, drawn out from his own thoughts. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, and I have to tense my body, to avoid fidgeting.

"Goodbye, Miyo. I'll see you during the Games," he finally says before he, too, turns away, graceful and poised.

Alone now, I sit down against the trunk of my tree, hugging my knees to my chest. Taking a deep breath and tipping my head back, I watch the swaying branches above me, catching brief glimpses of the sky.

I let myself sit like that for a long moment, wondering at how everyone will treat each other after all the dust of the Games settle, knowing that I just ruined my friendship with Hiashi, at the very least, before I push myself up to my feet, a smirk twitching over my lips and a hollow feeling settling in my stomach.

I have some people to find.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

I make my way home, a deep feeling of hardened determination circling through my muscles as I bound over the rooftops of Konoha, landing lightly in front of my house.

"Dad?" I call out, stepping through the door, "Mom?" If I want to make it through this, I'm going to need training. The Nakamura family doesn't have access to the amount of jounin that the Hyuga, Uchiha, and Nara have, or even the chunin —we didn't make it out of the clan wars as prolifically as some other clans, but both of my parent's are very talented ninja, and I'm sure that they would be very happy to train me if I asked for it.

The fact that this is the first time I've ever gone to them for training should definitely help me out. Dare I say it, Mom might even be proud of me.

A quick search of the house shows that no one is home, though. I sigh and run a hand through my hair, before deftly twisting the long mass into a braid as I slip back out of the house. Lightly leaping through my dad's vegetable garden, making sure I don't step on anything, I run up to Dan's door, rapping my knuckles lightly against the wood.

Yvette opens the door. I grimace, just what I need.

"Miyo," my blue haired cousin simpers, "Can I help you?"

"Is Dan home?" I ask between gritted teeth. This girl just gets to me.

"Hmm.." the girl pretends to think, leaning against the door frame, one slim finger tapping lightly against her bottom lip, "You know, I don't think he is," she declares, voice layered thick with fake disappointment, "Sorry, Mi-Mi." She closes the door.

I fish around in my pocket and take out my carefully folded packet of explosion seals, ready and willing to stick one to the door and blow that stupid cousin of mine up. Reason catches up with me before I can, though, and with a regretful sigh I stuff the bundle of seals back into my pocket. Maybe later.

Alright, fine. If Dan isn't home, there's really only two other places he would be: the hospital, or training ground five. The nurses and doctors at the hospital wouldn't like it very much if I loiter around looking for Dan, so I head to training ground five, hoping that I can find him there. If not, I'll… I don't know. I'll figure something out. I think I have a couple more ideas about training.

Once again, I leap up to the rooftops and sprint toward the dense forest that makes up the northern part of the city, where most of the training grounds can be found. I carefully feel out the chakra around me as I get closer to my destination, and I almost stumble in relief when I catch the light prickling of static electricity that makes up Dan's chakra signature.

I jump my way through four more trees before I flare out my own chakra, letting Dan know that I'm about to drop in.

Dan greets me with a quick swipe toward my head. Automatically I swing out my own hand, slapping at his and ducking my head.

"Dan, no!" I try, but he just leaps for me. I scramble out of his path and try to twist around him. He's much too fast, for me, though, and in a quick step he grasps my arms and pulls me back toward him. In a last ditch effort to spare myself from a hair ruffle, I let myself drop and twist my arms above my head, still held in his grasp. Balancing on one foot, I kick out one leg, hooking my toes around the back of his knee and pulling.

I have time to comprehend that his body is abruptly getting closer to mine, before I'm squished to the ground, held in a headlock as Dan scrubs his hand through my hair.

"Dan, no!" I wail again, trying to wiggle out of his hold. Dan just chuckles, rubbing and tugging his fingers one last time through my hair before he lets me go, pulling himself to his feet. I huff and stand as well, glaring at my cousin as I pull off the band at the end of my braid, pulling the strands free and smoothing out my hair.

"So, is this Yvette?" An amused voice asks. I freeze, my hands still tangled in my own hair. Leaning against one of the trees is a girl, about Dan's age maybe, with blonde hair pulled up in a high tail and amused, honey brown eyes. How in the world did I miss her?

As the girl and I enter into a sort-of staring contest, Dan walks over to the girl, smiling at her softly, "Nah," he says, "This is my cousin, Miyo." He turns to me, and I finally manage to drop my hands from my hair and look away from the girl, feeling rather awkward about this all, "Miyo, this is a friend of mine, Tsunade Senju."

"It's nice to meet you," I offer, turning back to the girl, Tsunade —probably a relative of Lord Tobirama's, with a last name like Senju— I nod a small greeting.

"I'd say the same, kid," she responds, a hint of condescending derision lacing through her words, "but I really can't, with a fighting form like yours."

A stunned silence, before Dan chuckles, "Don't take that personally, Miyo," he winks at me before turning besotted eyes to Tsunade, "Tsunade is only impressed by top notch fighters," he seems to tease the girl, who snorts and smirks at Dan, waving her fingers at him teasingly. Gross.

I don't like this Tsunade Senju. That's easy enough to determine. I offer the pair a stiff sort of shrug, trying to play it off, but it doesn't really matter. They are clearly too wrapped up in each other to pay me any attention. I clear my throat, "Dan?"

Dan hums questioningly and flicks his eyes over to me, before glancing right back at Tsunade, who's still just leaning against the tree, smirking and looking down her nose at the world.

"Tsunade and I were training, Miyo," he tells me, finally turning bodily back in my direction, "Can I help you with something?"

"Actually, training is _exactly_ what I was hoping you could help me with." If I hadn't had Dan's full attention before, I sure do now. He's staring at me, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"You… want help. With training," he gets out in a bewildered, disbelieving sort of way.

I nod, trying to play it off all casually, "I'm going to enter the Ninja Games," I tell him.

I had expected disbelief. It would have been a completely natural reaction. I really don't appreciate laughing, though. With years of practice repressing my emotions, I manage to not glare at Tsunade, still leaning against the tree, now positively braying with laughter. Worse, though, like a punch to the gut and a rock lodging in my throat, is when Dan joins her.

Dan's laugh is usually light and airy, brief but heartfelt. An expression of uncontainable joy. This, though, this Tsunade derived laughter is derisive and… and mocking. Dan had stayed silent a moment, staring at me. Maybe he didn't know how to react. But then _precious Tsunade_ had started laughing, and Dan had glanced at her, and then this stupid, hurtful, _stupid_ laughter.

It's more obvious to me now than ever, that ninja rule number thirty: _a ninja must purge themselves of all emotion_ is a complete joke. I close my eyes to just listen, for a moment. Tsunade's banshee like cackling mixing with Dan's lighter, mocking chuckles.

No, ninja rule number thirty is a complete waste.

I step away from my cousin, a blank mask keeping over my face only by the barest of margins, and for the first time I see the family resemblance between Dan and Yvette. I tuck my hands behind my back and fold them into the tiger seal, feeling the familiar twisting of my chakra as I prepare a replacement jutsu.

"Nevermind, then," I tell Dan quietly, watching as he just sort of relaxes back, closer to Tsunade, one eyebrow raised in condescending concern. From tiger, I slowly twist my hands into the snake seal, pushing and bending and twisting my chakra as I do, skipping seals but forcing the same effect. A puff of smoke and two stinging eyes later (totally just from the smoke, nothing else) I've replaced myself with a log I had noticed on the edge of the forest on my way in.

The distance had been larger than what I am I used to, and I feel it in my core. I struggle to straighten from where I land, crouched, and I'm honestly not sure if it's from the chakra drain, or from my engulfing disappointment in Dan. Or is it anger? Sadness?

I don't know. I don't know, and I don't want to think about it. Emotional repression isn't healthy, as ninja we're taught to compartmentalize and work through emotions before putting them aside, lest they come back and bite us, but for now? There's no way I want to think about Dan. Not when all I can think about when I imagine him is an ugly mish-mash of Yvette and Tsunade.

I have one more person that I can think of who might be willing to help me, and I really, _really_ hope that they agree.

If they don't, there's really only one person who seems available to help, and if it comes to that, I really doubt I'd be able to hold back from the explosion seals this time.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

The scent of perfume and incense is a familiar comfort to me as I bring up the nerve to knock on the door. Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I wrap my knuckles lightly on the wood and flare my chakra just the slightest bit.

It takes a few moments. Long moments that make me once again question why I am here, but the door finally opens. Hanami, still as classy and beautifully put together as the first day I saw her stares down at me before stepping aside and opening the door wider, a silent invitation to enter.

We settle on the comfortable cushions that I've become so familiar with. The white one with black embellishments practically has my name on it at this point.

"So," Hanami begins in her soft, smooth voice, "what brings you here, Miyo? I'm quite certain Professor Abe dismissed the third years a couple of hours ago so that those who choose to participate in the upcoming Ninja Games can prepare to do so."

"Actually, that's why I'm here, Hanami. My family is small, and the few members who would be able to train me are either unavailable or not interested in helping me train." I keep my face a perfect mask as Dan's traitorous face flashes through my mind. "I know that it's a lot to ask, but I was hoping that maybe you would be willing to give me pointers."

"This is surprising, Miyo. I was unaware that you had any interest in participating in something like the Ninja Games."

"I didn't, but," thoughts of my friends, Dan, that _stupid_ Tsunade, and my parent's fill my mind, and I find myself frowning. "I feel like I need to prove myself." My hands curl slightly, digging into the pillow beneath me. I stare at the black designs as I wait for Hanami's response. I know it's rude to ask someone outside of your family for training, but Hanami is already my teacher in the academy, so it's okay, right?

Eventually, I hear the quiet sound of a sigh, and I dare to look up. Hanami's lips seem a fraction away from a smirk, a sure sign that she's amused. "I think you proved plenty under the oak tree not too long ago," she smirks at me now, and I can feel me ears heat up. She'd seen that? "However, I'm finding this entire situation to be something far too interesting to leave alone."

Hanami studies me for a moment, a sharp pressure radiating from her chakra —something that's almost killing intent, but not quite— keeping me quiet.

After what seems like ages, but is probably only a minute or two, Hanami relaxes, all signs of dangerous ninja tucked away behind prim, proper lady.

"I'm certainly not the person to go to for taijutsu training," Hanami warns.

I nod in agreement, folding my hands in my lap, "I don't want taijutsu training." Well, not any more, at least. She may be a completely ugly beast inside, but Tsunade had a point about my fighting. It would be impossible to fix in just three days.

Hanami hums, looking satisfied, "What do you want, then?"

I lean forward a bit, staring down at my fingers before meeting her eyes, "In class last year, you mentioned that the best way to defeat a group of people was to let them do all the work for you."

Hanami smiles, a slow brilliant thing that thins her lips out and upsets the perfect symmetry of her face. In my eyes, she looks all the more beautiful for it, though.

"I think I can help you, Miyo," she purrs.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

 _Day one of training:_ I mentally transcribe _Hanami is mean and I don't like her anymore._

I sigh and massage my fingers against each other, trying to rub out all the tension built up from a day of running through hand signs, over and over and over again.

" _These illusions need to be as practiced and natural to you as your replacement and transformation jutsus,"_ Hanami had scolded, before she had handed me a list of several genjutsu. Most of which I had already learned in her classes, but a few of them had been new.

" _An illusion for cognitive dissonance?" I ask._

" _If you're going to go through with your plan," she explains, "People can't noticed the difference in behavior, or you'll be found out before the fighting even begins."_

I sigh and continue rubbing at my fingers, making my way through the academy training grounds, vaguely heading toward the market. I figure that I can grab myself something refreshing to drink on my way home.

Briefly I eye the rooftops, but the shaking in my legs, and my startlingly low chakra reserves stops me.

" _You've got the replacement jutsu down near perfectly," Hanami praises, "It would be a dying shame if you didn't have the body flicker technique down, as well. And since you only need two handsigns at this point to complete the replacement jutsu, the body flicker should be no problem for you. It's just the tiger seal, to coat your chakra over your muscular system, and a great deal of being aware of your surroundings."_

So, my day had gone something like this: body flicker to new location (which was required to be both on a different elevation and facing a different direction than my current location), run through the first illusion, dodge a couple of projectiles (to increase situational awareness, apparently), body flicker, run through the second illusion, body flicker, dodge, and so on.

" _This'll be good for your speed and perception, and you'll become familiar with all the illusions," Hanami explains while she rears back and throws a kunai precisely through the air, aimed for my head. I duck, panting_. " _Not to mention, you'll become intimately familiar with the signs of chakra exhaustion. It'll be good for you."_

 _I speed away, landing deftly; dodging a few more kunai before I race through the signs for a minor auditory illusion._

I stop for a moment and just breathe, feeling through the quiver in my hands and legs, swallowing around the nausea in my stomach which, when combined with my headache and overall shakiness, indicate chakra exhaustion.

Hanami had definitely lived up to her promises.

One day down, two more to go.

I clasp my hands together and swing them up over my head, stretching my muscles out. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot movement.

Turning, I see two students who seem to be arguing, their bodies tense and their hands gesticulating wildly. One is semi-familiar, a boy with gleaming sunshine blond hair and tan skin. The other is a kid of indeterminate gender with long, blood red hair and pale skin.

I lower my arms and study the two, impulsively deciding to get closer.

I tuck my chakra away —something that is made much easier than usual because of my low reserves— and silently skirt around the two, making sure to stay in their combined periphery, and settle myself next to a training post filled with pockmarks from senbon practice.

"You think that you're so much better than me, don't you?" the red headed girl exclaims —her voice very neatly gives her gender away. "You're just a clanless orphan! What good are you?"

Oh, ouch. The yellow-haired boy sucks in a sharp breath, but his face remains even. It's pretty impressive.

"I don't need to be from a clan to be proficient as a ninja," he explains, his voice calm. Yeah, this kid's got the ninja serenity down pat. I recognise escalation when I see it, though, and the redhead definitely screams escalation. I twist my fingers into a the seals for a chameleon illusion (my fingers still hurt, but the seals come easily, thanks to Hanami and her demon training).

Ambling forward, moving slowly so that the illusion will stay even, I keep careful watch on the confrontation.

"You'll never amount to anything, you pretty-boy, air-head," the redhead sneers, voice rising in volume and frequency. Ouch. I shrug one shoulder up, as if to protect my ears from the high pitched, red haired harpy. Kid's got a voice on her.

"I will," the boy says simply, features set in determination. He takes a step back, and turns, dismissing the girl.

The redhead's face twists into something fierce, her hand snapping out and latching onto the boy's arm, her fingers digging into his skin.

"You don't know anything," she hisses, "I'm going to be great, someday! Don't dismiss me so easily! You don't know who you're dealing with!" Her other hand raises and I leap forward just as she swings it down, her fingers curled into a fist.

"Oh jeez," I tell the two first years, who are now looking up at me with wide eyes (though the boy hides it better), the girl's fist caught in mine, "Fighting between first year academy students isn't allowed unless a teacher is present," I squeeze the hand caught in mine, meeting the redhead's wild gray eyes evenly, ignoring with some effort her searing, volatile chakra.

The girl's face twists into a sneer and she snatches her hand back, "Whatever," she sniffs, turning around and stomping away, "You two will regret the day you challenged Kushina Uzumaki! Future leader, believe it!" she calls over her shoulder as she disappears around the corner.

"Future leader of what?" I mutter to myself. What a weird kid.

I silently watch her go, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with the yellow haired boy (the kid's tall for his age, because there's no way that I'm short for mine).

"So, Eggs," I drawl, amused, "Girl troubles?"

The boy startles a bit, turning to face me, "Eggs?" he asks, voice incredulous, ignoring my question. Fair enough.

"Your hair," I gesture toward the yellow locks, "They remind me of the yolk of an egg. Sunny side up," I smile, thinking back to the third year tradition, and the blue-eyed kid in front of me, who had lined up first, determination painting his features.

Eggs just stares at me for a moment, before a smile ticks up the corners of his mouth, one of his hands extending toward me, "Minato Namikaze," he introduces, humor in his voice.

I take his hand, "Miyo Nakamura. It's nice to meet you, Eggs."

Minato shakes his head, but gives my hand a gentle squeeze before he lets go. And I can definitely still see the good humored smile on his face, don't think I can't.

"Same." Minato eyes me for a moment, before he relaxes, "You're a third year student?" he asks.

I nod, stuffing my hands back into my pockets.

"I thought that third years were on break now, getting ready for the Ninja Games?" Minato tilts his head to the side, intrigue in his eyes.

I shrug but nod, "Professor Tachibana's offered to train me," I explain, "My parents are both on missions," I tack on, before he can say anything. Training is usually taken care of by a ninja's family, and I don't want him to get the mistaken impression that I'm an orphan like he is.

Not that being an orphan is a bad thing or whatever. Just, awkward.

"What's a couple of first year students doing here so late, anyways?" I ask, glancing around. Besides me and Hanami, I had thought that the academy was pretty much deserted. It's well past dinner time, after all.

Minato shrugs, a sheepish expression on his face, "Kushina and I meet here after class, sometimes," he explains, "to train."

"And you stay until the sun sets?" I ask, amused at this first year who seems more dedicated than my whole class had been combined.

Offering me a small smile, Minato shrugs again, "Better than going back to the orphanage and doing nothing all day."

I wonder if I should offer comfort or condolences or something about him being an orphan, but his expression is good natured and I wouldn't know what to say without sounding like a spoiled brat, so I match his smile and drop it.

"And today you guys got into an argument?" I ask.

Minato nods, "Kushina has a lot to prove," is all he says, like it justifies her cruel remarks. He also neatly skirts around how the argument started. What a bright kid.

"If you say so," I eye him, amused.

As I watch, Minato seems to contemplate something for a moment, a sheepish expression stealing across his face. I raise an eyebrow, "What's up, Eggs?" I ask when it seems like he can't find the words to say.

"Ah," Minato scratches the back of his neck, his fingers disappearing into his long, shaggy hair, "I was wondering," he hesitates, eyeing me, before a steely look crosses his face, "I was wondering if I could train with you."

I blink, shocked. Eggs really isn't shy, is he?

"I know I'm just a first year," he rushes on, taking a small step toward me, "but I promise that I can keep up with your training, and that I could help you practice whatever techniques you need."

I consider the kid before me for a long moment. Just as it was rude for me to ask Hanami for training, he has to know it's rude to ask me. At least, I'd assume that he knows, but as an orphan, maybe no one has ever told him that. Still, I like his pluck, and I could use a friendlier...acquaintance? Friend? I can still feel the hollow place in my chest from the confrontation with my so called "friends".

Will any of them still be my friends after this?

Making up my mind, I smirk. "Sure thing, Eggs." At the exasperated look on his face, I can't help but chuckle. I need this, whatever exactly _this_ is. "Meet me here tomorrow, after class." Stepping back and placing my hands behind me, I form the familiar signs and disappear in a small waft of smoke.

* * *

SURPRISE! We said that there wouldn't be a chapter this week, but we lied! Well, we didn't lie, exactly. We just had no idea that we would get this out so quickly.

...it probably won't happen again. But who knows? We're on a roll!

Plus, we're a bit enamored with Eggs. Isn't Minato just a cutie? We didn't plan on him having a big part in the story, but we're swiftly changing our minds. He'll probably be around a lot in the future.

We hit 80 followers! We're super excited about this fact, but we're also a bit confused. 80 followers, 19 reviews... do you guys see why we're confused? Not that we have an issue with lurkers :) Us Splits are definitely lurkers, too. But! If you all would be so kind, we'd love to hear briefly from some of you, just a quick review on why you decided to follow the story. It'll be some nice, extra motivation for us, and we can get to know our readership a bit more. We'd hate to disappoint you guys.

Please?

Ahahaha.. right. Now that we're done embarrassing ourselves with begging, we'll sign off. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and adding Delusions to your favorites!

The Splits


	8. To Stand Alone

Posted: 3/8/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Eight: To Stand Alone

"Dad?" I call, hesitating at the threshold to my dad's study, "You have a minute?" In the flickering shadows from the small, lit fireplace, Dad looks older than I'm used to seeing. There are lines carving themselves a home on his forehead and around his mouth, a leftover from the stress that seems to constantly sit on his shoulders.

Dad glances up from where he's standing, hunched over his desk, a scroll gripped in one hand while the other runs through his hair.

"Miyo," his eyes soften, the expression doing wonders in relaxing his face, "Come in," he invites.

I step into the room, lingering near the doorway, my hands behind my back, holding tight to a piece of paper. A piece of paper that I really need my dad to sign. I eye my dad's desk, scattered with bundled kunai and senbon, his mission pack in his chair.

"You're going on a mission." It's not a question.

Dad sets the scroll aside (angled just right so that I can't see it's contents, I notice) and leans his hip against his desk, nodding, "I leave in the morning, first light. What can I do for you, Mi-Mi?" he asks, his expression firm, telling me not to ask any questions.

I push down my worry and regret —it would have been nice if Dad could be here over the Games— instead focusing on his use of my most hated nickname. I can't stop the smile from ticking up the corner of my mouth. It's childish and degrading, and I'll never let my dad know it, but I'm glad that the childhood moniker has stuck around. It feels good to hear it.

"I have a hypothetical for you," I tell him, a teasing smile pulling at my lips.

Dad relaxes further against his desk, an amused expression raising his eyebrows a bit, "A hypothetical, huh? Let me hear it, then," he invites.

I step further into the room, making sure to keep my hands behind my back.

"The Ninja Games are in two days," I start off, blunt. Dad immediately tenses, his eyes snapping into an intense sort of focus as he looks me over. I hold my breath. I could take the judgment sent my way from the likes of Hiashi Hyuga. I could even get over Dan's mocking laughter, sooner or later; maybe when he's not around the braying donkey disguised as a girl named Tsunade.

I will completely crumble if Dad so much as scoffs. I am weak, in that way.

"The Ninja Games," Dad repeats slowly, tone unreadable.

I nod, cautious, hands clenching behind my back. The resulting rustle from the paper in my grip is unnaturally loud.

"Professor Abe was willing to give me a permission form earlier today," I say. Willing is probably a strong term for it. I had gone back into the Academy after the argument under the tree. When I had requested the form, Abe had just stared at me (sort of like Dad is doing right now), before handing the paper over, one thin purple eyebrow ticked up.

" _Get one of your parents to sign this,"_ he had ordered in his raspy voice, " _It's required for all third year academy students looking to participate in the games. Drop it off with one of the chunin at the registry before the end of tomorrow."_

"This doesn't seem like much of a hypothetical," Dad points out, voice a little sarcastic.

I smile and shrug, a little sheepish, "Say I actually turn this form in," I tell him, bringing the form around, out in front of me so that Dad can see it, "Would-" I cut myself off, biting my lip.

I take a deep breath in, forcefully stopping myself from fidgeting, "Would-" I try again, but the words just won't come out.

"Say you enter," Dad takes over, slow, a complicated expression stealing across his face, "What do you think would happen, Miyo?"

I take a deep breath, "Would you be.." another deep breath, "If I failed-" I manage, before Dad cuts me off with a deep sound from the back of his throat, a grimace pulling his brows low ever his eyes.

"Stop prevaricating, Miyo," he orders, straightening from his desk, his voice sharp but his eyes kind. "What are you afraid of?"

I choke down a laugh, rubbing at my forehead. Dear heavens, what _aren't_ I afraid of? I'm afraid that I'm severely overestimating myself. I'm afraid that I'm going to get into the fighting tournament and just freeze. I'm afraid of the pain I might be forcing myself through. I'm afraid of hurting anybody. I'm afraid that I'll walk away from the Games, having proved Hiashi right, that I'm not meant to be a ninja.

Mostly, though: "I'm afraid of disappointing you," I whisper, hand covering my eyes, so that I don't have to see my dad. "I'm afraid that I'll go out there, and people will know that I'm your daughter, and that you'll be ashamed of me." It comes rushing out of me, unstoppable. I cringe.

Nothing happens for a long _, long_ moment. My feet are frozen to the ground, but my mind is turning quickly. The longer I stand here, the more convinced I am that I should leave. That was probably too emotional, right? Dad probably _really_ didn't want to have to deal with that.

I should definitely just leave. Pretend that I had never even thought about entering the Ninja Games. Everyone already thinks that I'm a failure, it probably wouldn't shock anyone if I backed out.

I can't make my feet move, though. So I just wait, my fingers digging into my temple, my palm pressed hard into the bridge of my nose, as I try and think of nothing, the press of silent time heavy against my shoulders.

A hand gripping mine startles me, and I take a half step back, my head snapping up to meet my dad's eyes. Without a word, my dad tugs at my hand, bringing me close to his chest.

Once again, I feel frozen as my dad's warm arms wrap around my shoulders, his hand tucking my head against his chest.

We stand like that for a long moment before I manage to break out of my shock. Hesitatingly, unsure if this is truly real, I bring my own arms up, wrapping them loosely around my dad's waist, before deciding that that isn't enough. I tighten my hold, gripping tightly to the back of his shirt, the permission form clutched in my hand, half forgotten.

"Miyo," my dad whispers against my hair, his breath as warm and as soft as his voice is, "I will _never_ be ashamed of you." He pushes me a step away, looking down at me with sparkling eyes, his mouth twisted into something painful.

Dad squeezes my shoulders before he slips away from my hold, his hands deftly snagging the permission form from my hands.

For a wild moment, I think of ripping the stupid paper from his hands and pulling Dad back into a hug, but the moment passes as Dad turns back to his desk, his hands smoothing out all the crinkles in the paper before he reaches for a pen, his eyes quickly scanning over the from.

Dad looks up at me, "You sure that this is what you want, Mi-Mi?" he asks, voice deepened with something heavy.

I take in a deep breath, wrapping my arms around my stomach, trying to keep his warmth close to me. I close my eyes.

I see Hiashi's face, his sneer turning his good looks into something ugly. I see Hizashi, constantly a step behind and to the right of Hiashi, forever caught up in his brother's shadow. I see Noriyo, motivated for the first time since I've known her, something like greed and contempt in her gaze. I see Fugaku, his condescension turning his expression sour.

I hear Dan and his mocking laughter.

I smell the comforting scent of Professor Hanami Tachibana, warm approval in her eyes.

I see little Minato Namikaze —Eggs— and the determination in his keen eyes that outweighs a whole generation.

I let my breath out, looking my Dad in the eyes.

"This is what I want," I tell him.

Dad signs the paper and walk back over to me, pressing the forms back into my hands.

"You're going to be great, Little Miyo," he whispers, a ghost of a smile on his face.

I tuck the form into a pocket and smile back, heart racing and palms sweaty, "I hope so."

Dad shakes his head, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. I lean into his comforting warmth, "You have to believe it," he says, voice urgent, "You can't prove yourself to others if you don't trust yourself."

I stare into my dad's eyes, memorizing the warmth and worry that I see there.

"I wish you could be there," I whisper.

Something like regret splashes across Dad's face before it smooths out, "We all have our duties to the village," he says, voice heavy.

He doesn't apologize.

I nod, reaching up and grabbing onto his wrist, "I'll make you proud," I tell him.

A slow smile stretches Dad's lips, "I know."

I take in a deep breath, letting Dad's hand slip from mine, "Don't tell mom before you leave," I say, trying to keep my voice even, but it comes out practically begging.

Dad's smile widens, the serious mood broken, "Oh?" he drawls, "Why not?"

"I want to tell her myself?" I try. It comes out like a question.

Dad looks like he's going to laugh before he swallows it down. He steps back from me, his gaze flicking over his desk. I wonder if he's thinking about his mission.

"Your mother isn't scheduled to be back from her own mission for another day, still," he says, eyes turning back to me, his voice amused.

I nod, relief coursing through me, "Good," I breath out.

Dad snorts, shaking his head, "Your mother isn't the bad guy, Mi-Mi," he teases, but his eyes are serious, "She'll be happy to hear that you're entering the Games."

I shrug, "I know," I tell him. And I do know, but after being happy, she'd go crazy about preparing me, and insulted that I asked Hanami for help, and it's all just not something that I want to deal with.

"I'll tell her," I assure my dad, crossing my fingers behind my back (a habit from a lifetime ago). I'm not _really_ lying to him, I think. It's not lying unless you can prove it, after all.

Dad eyes me, looking for a sign of duplicity, before he sighs, "Get out of here, Scamp," he shoos, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

I smile back, stepping away from my Dad, toward the door.

"Will I see you before you leave?" I ask.

Dad shakes his head, "Not this time, Mi-Mi."

I fight to keep a frown off my face, hiding my disappointment, "Be safe," I order him.

Dad nods, flicking me a fond look, "I'll try my best. Goodnight, Little Miyo."

"Night, Dad."

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"You're ready for this, Miyo," I assure myself, ignoring the amused look Minato is sending me. What does he know, anyways? Eggs can already beat me in a straight up taijutsu spar, so he totally can't judge me for being nervous about the Games.

Why am I doing this again?

Compulsively, I check all my pockets and pouches for my equipment: kunai that I won't use? Check. Senbon that I'm not great with? Check. Explosion seals? Check. Ninja wire? Check.

Minato chuckles, his slightly shorter form next to me, "You've already checked all your equipment," he offers, completely unhelpfully, "And you're better with your hands, anyways."

I send him a grateful look for the small compliment, "I'm nervous," I tell him.

"I couldn't tell," he says, amusement dancing in his eyes, his hands shoved in his pockets.

I sneer and resist the urge to insult the boy, "This is going to go badly," I tell him instead.

"Probably," he shrugs, ignoring the strangled sound that claws its way out of my throat, "But not before you knock most of them out of the competition. As long as you can avoid a head on fight, you're going to do amazing."

I cross my arms and lean against the side of a building —a quick glance shows that it's a bakery. Minato and I had met up early this morning at the academy, before the opening ceremony of the games, to walk together. My dad is still off on a mission, and my mom still doesn't know that I've entered the Games, so she's off with Yvette, to find the 'best seats,' like they do every other year when the Games are put on.

I'm doomed.

I sigh, "Maybe-"

"Nope," Minato cuts me off, "You're entering the Games, Miyo," he sounds firm. I wish I could be that firm. "It's not like you to go back on a decision," he says, a little more cautiously, his brows furrowed in worry.

I sigh and stand straight again, "I'm not usually this nervous," I justify, because that's nicer than saying that he's only known me for three days, and it's easier than saying that I'm about to enter a competition that I already know I'm not going to win, where I'll be facing my school mates— some of which I'm pretty sure are still my friends, even though I made a mess of things the last time we saw each other.

I also can't tell him about the dream I had last night. _That_ dream. The one where a demon haunts me, and my chest aches, and all I can smell is blood and french vanilla. I'm pretty sure the looming stress of the ninja games triggered it. I haven't had _that_ dream in a little while. I can't say I'd forgotten it, but I'd certainly been able to push it to the back of my mind. Until now.

Stupid Ninja Games. This had better be worth it.

Minato studies me for a long moment, his blue eyes sharp with intent. Over the course of the last three days, I've discovered a few things about the kid I insist on calling Eggs: he's a taijutsu prodigy, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he could give Fugaku a run for his money; he's pretty much the most genuinely kind person I've ever met; he's one hundred percent infatuated with Konoha (I'm pretty sure his goal is to be Hokage some day, though he hasn't said anything); and he's _smart_.

Not smart like a Nara is, he isn't really a person who sits around and makes strategies all day. He's less traditional than that —with an amazing memory and a great deal of talent in understanding people. One long look from those fierce eyes of his, and I feel like he completely understands what I'm thinking.

It's creepy.

"Eggs, don't look at me like that," I scold, pushing past him to continue on walking.

"Like what?" he asks, catching up to me, the smirk on his lips telling me that he already knows what I'm thinking.

"Like I'm _readable_ ," I scold, " _I_ am not _readable_." I am, however, glad for the distraction as we leave the bustle of the center of the city and head toward the outskirts of Konoha, where the Games have been set up.

Minato smirks, his shoulder lightly bumping mine, "You're not usually," he teases, "but today? Sorry Miyo" he offers, part amusement, part genuine apology. I scoff. This kid is way too nice.

We walk in silence for a bit. It's comfortable, which is nice. The sun is just rising over the mountains, and it turns the city into a beautiful juxtaposition of shadow and light. As we wind our way through the city, closer and closer to the trio of temporary stadiums set up for the games, it becomes more crowded, as participants and viewers alike make their way to the main arena where Lord Tobirama will open the Games.

When we reach the point where I need to split off and join the other competitors, I stop.

"Hey, Eggs," the boy stops and turns, tilting his head to the side just a fraction. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a decent sized, dark blue rock (I painted it myself —it has eyes and everything!). "Save me a seat for later, okay?" I say as I place the rock in his hands that he automatically holds out.

He looks at the rock oddly for a moment, examining the bright white eyes and stern scowl adorning the glossy blue hunk of earth. "I thought you would go sit with your family when you're done?"

I hold back a grimace, and shake my head instead. "Nah, I think you'll pick a better spot to sit than they will, so use that rock to keep me a place, okay?" Minato doesn't know anything of my family situation other than they didn't have time to help me train for the games. I'm not about to tell him that I've been avoiding Dan, and because of my nerves, I couldn't bring myself to tell Mom that I am competing.

I wish Dad was here. Stupid mission.

"Alright, I'll save you a seat, but do I really need to do it with a rock? I'm sure I can just tell people I'm saving a seat for a friend."

"Nope," I say, popping the p. "You have to use the rock. I'll know if you don't." Smirking a bit, I turn and start walking away, leaving a bemused Minato with my blue rock still in his hands behind me. What can I say? I think it'll be funny.

I join my fellow competitors in the arena, scuffing my new shoes (not open toed this time, and hadn't I gotten a weird look for that request) through the dirt on the floor. The arena, being temporary, is built over a large dirt field, the same field, I'm amused to see, that I used to play ninja on when I was younger.

I smirk to myself, keeping to the back of the large group. I may have never won ninja, back in the day, and I may have gotten more dirt kicked in my face than what I was really comfortable with, but I had always lasted longer than everybody else, hadn't I?

I take a deep breath in, watching with wide eyes and a pounding heart as Lord Tobirama, with his white hair and gleaming face guard, stands. His bearing is proud, his red facial tattoos are fierce, and his chakra, repressed as it is, feels like a hurricane trapped in a man.

I slowly release the tension in my body, staring up at my hokage.

Right.

Stay up on my feet the longest. If it'll impress this man? I can totally do that.

"Konoha," Lord Tobirama addresses, his voice deep and resonating, but very much emotionless, "We gather here to start the Ninja Games." Everything stills, and all talking stops. I can feel the tension radiating from the crowd around me as all eyes turn toward our leader.

"I won't stand here and talk over you for long," he continues, and I wonder at the faint slump of disappointment I can feel from the people around me. Are they nervous and want to drag things out, or are they, like me, just really into Lord Tobirama's voice?

...That's probably not something I'm ever going to let anyone know I just thought.

"The Ninja Games were set up twelve years ago today to celebrate our new ninja," Lord Tobirama's eyes rove over us, and I hurriedly drop my gaze to his chin, just in case he looks my way, "And now, on our sixth Games, we have seen that the winners and standouts from this competition have gone on to do great things for our village. So, today, I invite all participants to think beyond just this competition. Ninja of Konoha must be more than just bluster and show.

"They must be loyal, dedicated, prepared for all things —such is the Will of Fire" Lord Tobirama pauses, "I challenge you all to be these things, and if you are, you will be recognised. You will be rewarded. Not with earthly goods, but with an answering dedication from your village and your people."

Silence reigns for a moment, as Lord Tobirama once again looks us over carefully. This time, I don't manage to drop my eyes before they're caught up in his red, red gaze. It seems like an eternity passes, like this man now knows everything about me. When his gaze shifts, I come back to myself. I can feel my knees trembling.

 _Don't be stupid, Miyo_. I tell myself, shoving my hands in my pockets. It's not like Lord Tobirama will even remember me by the end of the day.

"Let the sixth biennial Ninja Games commence," he finally commands, waving an arm over toward a jounin, sitting behind him. Lord Tobirama turns and gracefully takes his seat while the new man steps up.

"On your way in," the jounin announces, not bothering to introduce himself, "Each of you were given a colored paper. Those of you with red papers will stay here, blue will go to arena two, green will go to arena three.

"Once everyone is accounted for, a free for all battle will commence," the jounin smirks. I slump in relief. The Ninja Games usually start in one of three ways: a one-on-one battle tournament, and three-on-three battle tournament, or a free for all. The free for all has only been held once before, on the very first games, and has been dreaded ever since. Even though I had prepared for every eventuality, I had really been hoping for this outcome.

I do better when people aren't paying attention to me.

"The three winners of the free for alls will then be matched against each other tonight before the Games are closed. You are dismissed," we're told. I clutch my paper closer and glance down at it. Red. Looks like I'm staying put.

As my fellow genin and genin-hopefuls troop out, I no longer have the protection of being a small person in a large crowd to hide me. It doesn't take long until someone sidles up next to me.

"Miyo," I'm greeted.

I take in a deep breath before letting it out, turning to face Fugaku, "Heir Uchiha," I keep my voice emotionless, my face blank. Part of me is glad that Fugaku is willing to approach me after the disaster under my tree, but another part of me really, _really_ doesn't want to be associated with Fugaku Uchiha, heir of the Uchiha clan, rumored prodigy.

A pinched look appears in the lines around Fugaku's eyes, an almost insulted sort of look. I twitch. We keep eye contact for a long moment, guilt building up in me. Just as a sneer rises on Fugaku's face, I slump in defeat.

"You're painting a target on my back," I complain, adding an extra long whine to my words. His face smooths out, replaced with something like fond amusement.

"You don't have a forehead protector," Fugaku says, "You're already a target. They always target the academy students first."

I grimace up at my friend, "Don't care. I refuse to talk to you while I can be targeted by your rabid Uchiha fans," I tell him, as serious as I've ever been. And I am serious. Already, I can feel the vicious eyes of the many girls in the arena. I call it Uchiha-syndrome. The disease that takes over a girl's mind, before they realize just how arrogant a Uchiha really is.

Fugaku raises an eyebrow, but doesn't seem bothered, "Good luck, Miyo," he offers as I turn away from him.

"You, too," I wave over my shoulder, slipping through the ever slimming crowd, toward the east side of the arena, which is still bathed in plenty of shadow.

As I stand and study my opponents, I see Fugaku heading toward the center of the crowd, his face blank except for a small smirk on his lips. Oh yeah. People are definitely going for him, first.

The crowd shifts, just for a moment, long enough that I can see, on the south-eastern side of arena, is Noriyo Nara.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

My eyes rove the crowded stands around the arena as the chunins in charge of refereeing the soon to be all out brawl finish giving the few instructions that actually exist for this competition. It takes me a minute to locate my family, spread out as they are.

The looks on Mom's and Yvette's faces are in turns terrifying and priceless, and they are definitely staring straight at me. I offer them a brief wave.

...I get the distinct feeling that if I do anything to make the family look bad, it will be a good idea to not show my face at home for a few days.

I hadn't meant to look for him, but I also find Dan in the crowd, and frown at him and the company he's keeping. Tsunade is next to him, and I can feel my teeth clenching.

I turn my eyes away, looking for the bright yellow that is Minato's hair. I finally find him, and it makes me want to laugh. The empty spot next to him has my dark blue rock sitting on it. I watch as someone approaches, and the following gestures towards the rock and a shake of Minato's head before the person turns and walks away.

Good job, Eggs.

I turn my attention back to the chunin who will start the fight. He looks to be two or three years older than I am, white spiky hair, and steely eyes set in a stern face. It's unusual for someone to make chunin so young. Perhaps he was the winner of the last ninja games, so he was able to fast track to the next rank? I never really paid attention to who won in past years.

In the chunin's hand is a kunai with a red piece of cloth tied to the end. He holds up the kunai high in the air to make sure he has all our attention.

"When this kunai hits the ground, the fighting begins! Last person standing will be the winner!"

I can feel my heart beating all too loudly in my chest. My eyes take in the genin and genin-hopefuls around me in the circle as I watch the signal to start fly up into the air, reach its apex, and begin to fall. Everyone's eyes seem to follow it, and I take that time to ready my hands for the moment the kunai hits the ground and the fighting starts.

As soon as the blade hits the ground, pandemonium breaks out. My fellow competitors immediately turn toward each other and a cacophony of sound assults my ears as I fold my hands quickly through the hand signs for an illusion.

Time to get this party started.

I watch the chaos, hidden by my illusion of myself sprawled out on the ground, knocked out. There's no obvious pattern to the fighting, but as I watch, moments of vulnerability make themselves known.

There, by the wall. Four quick hand signs, a flare of chakra, and two opponents aren't where they used to be, replaced with each other. Their disorientation is obvious, and both are quickly knocked out.

I take in a deep breath. I can do this.

People are dropping left and right. Like a storm, quick to come and falling swiftly to the ground, people fall. I'm forced to drop my illusion when it's broken by a tall genin, their face covered by dust and grit, a mad grin on their face.

I make eye contact, my hands falling precisely into two signs. A moment of resistance, a whirl of color, and I replace myself with the kunai that they're holding. Their hand is wrapped around my arm, their clammy grip tight. Shock crosses their face, I slam a piece of paper onto their forehead. A crackle of chakra and their grip loosens as they fall to the ground.

Quickly, before anyone pays too much attention to me, I flicker away, back into the shadows, another illusion settling over me. This one deepens the shadows in the arena and blurs my edges a bit.

Jutsu begin to light up the arena (nothing too fancy though, we are only academy and fresh genin here) —bright flashes of fire, followed by damp torrents of water. The ground rumbles, pitching back and forth as competitors fight for control over the earth. I quickly flash my way around the arena, sticking close to the walls, replacing people with other people, or other weapons, weaving illusions in between the other jutsus being thrown around, watching their disorientation lead to their downfall in the mass confusion of the fighting.

I can't stay on the sidelines for forever, though. As more and more people drop (their bodies being taken out of the arena by one of the aides hanging out around the stadium), people begin to notice my actions.

I duck a thrown kunai, a familiar ache starting up in my chest.

A quick transformation, and I'm an exact replica of my opponent. I match their smirk with my own, reaching for my pouch and pulling out an explosion seal, weighted down with a rock. I quick seal from my other hand as I pull it out makes it look like a kunai, matching the one on my opponent's hand.

The genin across from me startles, and I use that to quickly flicker forwards, landing toe-to-toe with him. A quick hand forward, a nerve hit and chakra applied, and he's down. I chuck my explosive rock toward the center of the arena, where there's a lot of loose earth from the jutsus being thrown around.

I flash forward as the explosion hits, dust and ash and smoke quickly exploding through the air, obscuring the battle grounds. Two genin caught in the explosion go down. I dodge the reaching grab of a shadow and weave an illusion before the dust settles. Nothing major, don't have time, but I flatten out some rough edges on the ground as I catch the arm of a girl, blocking her punch.

Quickly grappling, I block her leg with my own. A one handed seal later, and vertigo hits the girl. I rear back and punch her square in the face. Her nose snaps under my hand and I can feel her blood against my skin. I fight down the instant nausea and terror that spirals through my body.

While the pain distracts her, I slap a seal on her forehead. A quick application of chakra and she's down. My fingers fall into the tiger seal, and I body flicker back against the wall, just barely dodging another reaching shadow.

There are _a lot_ less people now, I see. Maybe only fifteen left. My next breath comes in a nervous shudder, trying to repress the feel of a broken bone against my knuckles. Minato and I had spent the last two days getting me used to throwing a punch with some real force behind it. I still feel unprepared.

Right. Enough of that. Fighting, and stuff. Time for phase two.

I take another moment to observe the remaining genin. Fugaku and Noriyo both stand out. We're the last of the academy students still participating.

Its an easy decision, to avoid them.

Too bad Noriyo really seems to disagree.

The Nara quickly ducks between two fighting genin and leaps toward me, her shadow leading the way. I quickly snap out five hand signs as I dodge to the side, a burst of light shooting toward her shadow, dispersing it.

It's nothing more than an illusion, playing on Noriyo's perception of light and dark. It won't fool her for long.

A quick turn, and a burst of speed puts me toe to toe with my friend. While the illusion lasts, I want to keep things as close as possible.

I dodge one of Noriyo's quick hands and catch the other, spinning the girl away from me, so that I'm facing her back. Kicking at the back of one of her knees, I release her arm, bringing my hands together into quick signs before she can turn back around.

I have just enough time to set the trap.

Noriyo leaps to her feet and turns toward me, her shadow roiling at her feet, a sure sign that she's working her way through the illusion.

"You've gotten better," the shadow user offers in her usual monotone.

I almost want to reply, to say something snappy and distracting, but talking during a battle really isn't my style. I end up distracting myself more than I ever do my opponents.

Instead, I just smile at the girl. I have to time this just right.

A second's pause, and we move. I can feel Noriyo shatter the light perception illusion as she lunges forward, her shadow splitting in half, one leading the way in front of her, and the other disappearing into the shadow cast by the arena walls.

I lunge to the left, toward the center of the arena, nimbly dodging Noriyo and her shadow.

"Don't be troublesome, you won't escape me," she taunts. I ignore her, splitting my attention between my friend, her shadows, and the other, dwindling fighters.

Our dance continues, as Noriyo and her shadow work in tandem to herd me around, closer and closer to the stretching shadow of the arena, don't think that I don't notice.

I try and weave more illusions, but Noriyo always times her advancing lunges for those moments. I huff, giving up on hand signs. I concentrate on my chakra, slowly imitating the tiger seal's mish-mash of yin and yang pulses, feeling it start to coat my muscles.

Just a little bit longer.

I'm dodging between two genin that have migrated in between Noriyo's and my fight when it happens. I step too close to the arena walls, and I feel the cold sensation of Noriyo's shadow slithering over mine. I hide a smirk.

In the seconds before the other half of her shadow also latches onto me, I dip my hands into two signs. A puff of smoke, a cry of confusion, and I hear, "Shadow possession technique: complete."

As I reorient myself, I turn, watching Noriyo reach for her kunai. Confusion spreads across her face when she thinks her hand finds nothing. I take advantage of her confusion and I flicker forwards, smirking at Noriyo as I slap a seal on her forehead, a knockout seal. I have just enough time to see the realization in her eyes, before they close and her body falls.

Trap? Successful.

Turning, before my preoccupation with my friend can be used against me, I raise my hand just in time to block the downward swing from an arm. The genin that was trapped in my place in Noriyo's technique. He looks rather mad.

I abruptly pull my arm back from his. The genin, having been putting his full strength in his arm to try and overpower me, can't stop his hand from continuing his downward swing. I dodge around the boy and his controlled stumble, slapping my last knockout note onto the side of his neck. He falls like a ton of bricks.

Before I can even turn, two genin are at my sides, one on each side. I form half the tiger seal with one of my hands, the other slapping a kunai wielding hand away from my neck. A quick body flicker and my back is thumping against the arena wall, my control on that flicker shot completely shot.

A quick look around and I'm absolutely dumbfounded to see that it's just me and the two genin. What happened to Fugaku? What in the-

I have no time to think. The genin, twins, obviously, or I'm trapped in an illusion, are synchronized. Together, they lunge toward me, _so fast_.

I slap my hands back against the arena and throw myself away from the incoming genin. I land in a roll, desperately trying to get my feet back under me.

I can't win this.

From two sides, I'm being attacked. I'm a good dodger, so I make it away, but it won't last for forever; I really don't do well in direct confrontation. I can feel my chakra reserves dwindling. Time for my escape plan, then.

I drop an explosive rock as I use the body flicker technique to appear next the white-haired referee. One, two transformations later and I look like the referee who looks like me. I just have time to twist the cognitive dissonance illusion around the twin genin (and they're definitely twins, not an illusion) and throw a pleading look toward the bemused looking referee before they burst out from the smoke and dirt in the air, thanks to my explosion.

I adopt the same blank faced, standoffish look the referee had on as one of the twins immediately leaps toward the fake me. The other twin, though, takes a moment to shake his head, his hands coming up into a single hand sign as he breaks my illusion.

Shoot.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see the referee break his forced transformation, the genin that attacked him dangling in his hands. I don't have time to see if he's unconscious before the second twin is right in front of me.

I try and dodge, but this time I don't make it. One of the genin's hands closes around my arm, while the other brings a kunai straight down toward my shoulder.

Yeah, no.

I desperately fold my hands into one last hand sign and reach my chakra out, snagging onto my target. A flare of chakra later, and I'm slumped down in a chair, Minato's wide eyes turn toward me as he coughs out a lung do to the unexpected smoke.

Down in the arena, the last genin is left holding onto a blue rock, with white painted eyes and a stern scowl.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

I had known from the beginning, but Minato and a good portion of the crowd seems pretty disappointed that leaving the arena is an automatic disqualification.

I can't quite stop the blush from painting my cheeks, faced with the crowd's uproarious boos and hollers, not to mention Lord Tobirama's amused look as he sits in his chair, his face blank but his eyes sparkling.

I quickly dart my eyes away from the man before we make eye contact again. Instead, I turn back toward the stern faced jounin who was examining me. He's the same man who had spoken after Lord Tobirama, I note. He has deep brown, spiky hair held back from his face by his forehead guard and a prominent 'x' shaped scar on his chin.

"While your plan was successful," the jounin admits slowly, seemingly deeply unimpressed, "You have broken the rules clearly laid out before the tournament, and no exceptions will be made."

I bow my head in acknowledgment, a little more intimidated by this man that I would like to admit, "I understand." At least my voice is coming out clear and strong.

The jounin nods and turns toward the genin that I had been facing, my rock still clenched in his hand. The jounin observes the boy for a long moment, still looking unimpressed, before he turns toward the podium, raising his hand for instant silence over the stadium.

"The winner of the red-battle is genin Hiroshi Yo. Because academy student Nakamura disqualified herself by leaving the arena, and because genin Satoshi Yo disqualified _him_ self by attacking the referee, academy student Fugaku Uchiha will take the place of runner up" A mix of booing and cheering erupts from the crowd.

I hide an amused smirk, turning resolutely away from the twin I had tricked into attacking the white haired referee. Satoshi Yo _does not_ seem pleased with me. Instead, I make eye contact with a smugly satisfied Fugaku, giving him a thumbs up.

Once again, the unnamed jounin raises his hand and silence settles, "The winner of the green battle is genin Kanoko Nara, the runner up is genin Loli Ren. The winner of the blue battle is genin Toro Wess, and the runner up is academy student Hiashi Hyuga."

More cheers break out, and I fight back a frown. Hiashi had won runner up. That's not going to smooth thing out between the Hyuga brothers at all.

Each of the winners and and runners up are shuffled toward the podium, where they take a deep bow and shake Lord Tobirama's hand, before we're all dismissed.

"Minor competitions and exhibitions will commence as detailed in the announcements posted around Konoha," the jounin announces over the noise of hundreds of people shuffling around, collecting their belongings and standing up.

I turn to leave, my hands shoved in my pockets and a peculiar feeling of triumph settling in my gut. Before I can make it very far, though, a hand falls onto my shoulder.

I tense, my hands automatically grasping at my last explosive rock. I turn quickly; it's the same jounin as before, his face grave and serious, a black scroll in his hands, "You'd best stay. We've already called for your mother," he intones.

I barely hear him, eyes locked on the black scroll.

Black scrolls are only given out to families of ninja killed in battle.

Dad.

 _No._

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

The urn is simple in it's design, dark blue almost black in color with silvery lines and swirls. I hate it. I hate what's inside: Dad, or at least, his ashes.

My eyes burn and itch with unshed tears as I quietly walk home from the mortician's with Mom. I wish the sky would cloud up and match my feelings with angry bursts of lightning and hard downpours of rain, but instead it's really quite a nice day out. The sun is shining, a few wispy clouds are in the sky, and it's warm with the heat of summer.

My thoughts can't help but wander to another time I walked home with Mom, the day in the market when I started to _remember_. Are the strange things in my head really memories of another life?

If I did actually live another life in another place before this, then where is Dad now?

Has he simply ceased… is he just gone?

Or is he out there, somewhere. Waking up in somewhere else, born into a new family with a new name, learning a new world? I gulp, swallowing down tears and regret and fear. Will he remember me?

I repress a shiver. Did he go to that gray place where everything feels so wrong?

I chance a glance at Mom from the corner of my eye. Her face is set like stone, hard and unmoving. I'm sure it's a mask to keep her other emotions at bay. Despite her rough edges, I know Mom loved Dad in her own way, just as he loved her.

Where does she think that Dad is now? I never actually brought up the topic of death with either of my parents. Well, aside from the fact that I need to be properly prepared to cause someone else's death by my own hands.

I begin to slowly flow chakra through my body in a moving meditation to draw attention away from the train of my thoughts that I'm finding quite unsettling.

Upon reaching our home, I walk in behind Mom who doesn't even look at me as she carries what's left of Dad into their, or I guess, _her_ room, and shuts the door. I can't blame her. Mom is too good of a ninja to break any of the ninja rules in front of another person, but in the quiet of the house since Dad's death, I've heard her small, hesitant, gut wrenching sobs coming from behind the closed door to her bedroom.

Eventually settling on my own bed, I continue with my chakra mediation and flow, feeling how my chakra shapes and builds upon itself as I slowly move my hands from one sign to another.

I don't want to be around other people right now, but my thoughts are dangerous at the moment, and this is all I can think of to do to keep my mind busy.

I lean back against the pillows and curl my fingers into the familiar tiger sign, feeling my chakra move to cover my muscles. Slowly, keeping my chakra steady, I release the sign.

I sit like this for a while, fighting against the natural flow of my chakra to move, instead keeping it still over my muscles.

Finally, slowly, minutes or hours later, who knows? I let the chakra go, one chakra node at a time, feeling out how the loss of one yin and yang connection shifts the rest of my chakra around.

Eventually, before I even get through a quarter of my chakra nodes, I'm forced to let go. I sigh, slumping back against my pillows.

That was too easy. Something I'm familiar with, but not too familiar with, then.

Getting more comfortable, I fold my finger quickly into different signs: dog, boar, ram. I release the jutsu before the transformation can take effect. Again, I fold my fingers: dog, boar, ram.

Again.

And again.

Once more.

I feel out the chakra, mentally tracing how it folds. Starting with dog, twisting through boar, shifting with ram. Over and over again I run through the hand signs of the transformation technique, until my fingers hurt and my eyes feel heavy.

Dog.

My dad, kneeling in his garden.

Boar.

My dad, cooking at the stove.

Ram.

My dad, reading in his study.

Dog, boar, ram.

The shade of his hair in the sunlight.

Dog, boar, ram.

The sound of his laughter, as he teases me about boys.

Dog, boar, ram.

His smile.

Dog, boar, ram.

The warmth of his hug. The safety that I find in his arms.

 _Miyo, I will_ never _be ashamed of you._

Dog, boar, ram.

The matted gleam of his urn. Watching someone carve his name into the KIA memorial, surrounded by people who refuse to show emotion.

Dog, boar, ram.

A tear slips down my cheek, and I can't easily open my eyelids any more.

Dog.

My dad.

Boar.

 _Dad._

Ram.

Dead.

* * *

Dun dun dun...!

And that's another week and another chapter. Seriously people, we did not plan this. We hadn't even started this chapter when we posted the last one. ...We have no idea how we accomplished this. Literally, no idea.

Anyways, the reviews, favorites, follows, and being added to a community have been awesome. We are hoping to break 100 followers with the posting of this chapter.(!)

And yes, Eggs is probably one of the dumbest nicknames ever, but it's all we can think of now when we see pictures of Minato.

Over and Out,

The Splits


	9. Striving for More

Posted: 3/15/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Nine: Striving for More

I frown down at my hands in the dog sign as I mentally and internally will my chakra to shift to the next hand sign without me physically doing it. The bark of the tree behind me digs into my back, and I shift a little to get more comfortable, taking a momentary break before resuming my efforts. Until I can smoothly and seamlessly transition from each of the three transformation seals to the others without actually using a hand sign, I won't be satisfied.

Perhaps this newfound obsession of mine isn't the healthiest thing out there, but it's a distraction —a coping method. Following, memorizing, and discovering all the different paths chakra can build upon itself requires a lot of mental concentration that keeps my thoughts from dwelling on less pleasant things.

Not enough concentration though, to prevent me from noticing Dan's familiar chakra approach and finally settle on a nearby branch. I'm still not sure how I feel about Dan right now, but I do have a question, and I want answers.

"Why did you start training to become a medic-nin?" I ask quietly, before he can say anything. I don't have to look to know that he's listening. Why else would he have come out here than to attempt to speak to me? Mom probably sent him, thinking I would like talking with Dan best. A few weeks ago, she would have been right, but not anymore. Maybe not ever again.

"Why? Well, that's because I want to help people." Dan's voice sounds surprised, but I could scoff at his answer. Help? Help people? Did he become a medic because of a guilty conscious?

"Is that really enough for you?" I ask quietly. "Waiting for the damage to be done and cleaning up the mess that follows? Don't you ever want to find a way to prevent the damage in the first place?" I was the one damaged, once, in that other world in my head. I'm sure I'd have prefered not dying. What kind of a mess did I leave behind?

I meet Dan's eyes, and hold his stare until he finally looks away. I can't remember the last time I lost a staring contest. I've become notorious for winning them. Dan eventually lets out a heavy sigh.

"You know, Miyo, there's a lot of times, like right now, that you don't seem like a kid. What you're talking about is a far off and probably unrealistic ideal. The only way to stop the damage from being done in the first place is to have power so immense that no one dares to challenge you or the people close to you. Even Lord Tobirama doesn't have power like that, so, yes, cleaning up the mess is fine for me. Because if I don't try to clean it up, I'll lose even more than I do now."

I'm frowning heavily, I can feel the wrinkles in my forehead. I don't like Dan's answer. In my dreams, I fought in that place called a courtroom with words and facts and evidence —fighting, like Dan is now, to clean up a mess that somebody has already caused.

I'm sick of living like that.

"Don't frown like that. What'll you do if it sticks?" Dan tries to joke, but it falls flat, and I tell him as much with my eyes. When he flinches, I feel somewhat vindicated, but he isn't done yet. "Look, Miyo, is this...is this because Uncle died?"

"Dad was lucky enough to actually have a medic at the outpost with him, and he still died, Dan. They _all_ died." My nails are digging into my fists now, and the pain is a nice distraction from the ache in my chest. "Dad's gone. What good is being a medic-nin if people still die in your arms? If _you_ still die?" I can feel my chakra roiling inside like a violent summer thunderstorm.

Getting to my feet, I turn away from Dan, but I can feel his eyes watching my every move like a hawk. It's annoying.

Ever since the Ninja Games, ever since _Dad died_ there's been this strange awareness in people's eyes when they look at me. Like they're constantly looking for a threat. Dan, Mom, my friends… I hate it.

"It takes a lot of bravery to be a medic-nin, Miyo." I roll my eyes, uninterested in the case Dan is trying to make. Honestly, I haven't cared (or at least wanted to) since he laughed at me with Tsunade. "You have to stay in the back and watch your teammates fight. It's a medic-nin's job to avoid injury so they can heal the survivors."

"Then I must be a coward. You can fight to keep people alive, Dan, but I…" I pause, placing a hand over my chest and lightly applying pressure. "I can't stand the sight of my own blood. I hate being in pain." It hurt so much, the stabbing, the bleeding, the deep ache, and the ripping of flesh.

But sometimes, I think that waking up again hurts worse.

"I hate causing pain. My body starts to shut down at the thought of it." Shut down, mimic a death I might have experienced, same thing. If I close my eyes right now, I know I'll see the demon behind them, see the satisfied look on his face at my pain, _my death_.

What is death, really? Is it an end? Or is it just a new beginning?

Shifting my weight, I transfer the necessary chakra to my legs and feet and up my spine, the tiger seal no longer a necessity. I spare a look over my shoulder at Dan, the ghost of a painful grimace on my face. "If I have to fight for something, then I would fight to prevent myself, and others, from feeling pain in the first place."

Dan opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. "I don't want to hear it, Dan. Please, just leave me alone." My voice nearly cracks at the end, and with a shift of chakra, I _run_.

When I finally stop moving, I find myself at the top of a tall tree that allows me to see part of the village. My eyes drift to the academy building, it's bright colored roof sticking out like a sore thumb. Even though class started back up awhile ago, I haven't been back.

I need time, and space.

Grief can do strange things to a person, and right now, the idea of having to socialize and deal with my peers is just too much.

I'll go back when I'm ready...or when they make me. Duty to the village and all. Whichever comes first, I suppose.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"Miyo." I look up from my hands and let my chakra fall back to its natural flow at the sound of my Mom's quiet but steady voice. We haven't spoken much in the past few days, slipping silently around each other in the strange dance that is grief. It helps though, knowing someone else is here, in the house.

Mom's leaning against the frame of my door, and while her face is stoic and her posture is as straight and vaguely threatening as usual, there's something awkward around the set of her shoulders, like she isn't sure if she's welcome.

"Yeah, Mom?" I reply, shifting over obviously as Mom hesitates. She lingers a moment longer at the door before crossing the room to join me on my bed. It's… weird, I think, laying next to Mom in silence, staring at the ceiling. Dad is- Dad was the one who usually invaded my privacy like this.

I fidget a bit, twisting my fingers through the sheets on my bed. If I close my eyes, Mom's presence can almost seem like Dad's. Is it so bad of me, if I want it to be? For Dad to be the one to be here…

I bite back a grimace, and shove the thoughts away, lying still and silent, eyes tracing invisible patterns across the ceiling.

The thing about Mom and I, though, is that what isn't said is always more poignant that what is said. There's something about the heavy quietude between us, the _lack_ , that's led us to the relationship that we have today. Something that's not quite _fond_ but is entirely _family_.

So the silence works it's usual magic as we lay together. I can feel Mom slowly relax next to me, her shoulders loosening, one coming to rest just barely over mine; a spark of warm comfort from a woman who is usually cold.

"Dad knew," I break the silence, finally putting to words what's been haunting me for days now, "Dad knew that he wouldn't be coming back."

I can hear Mom breath a deep sigh, something wistful caught in her throat, "Probably," she says, voice soft.

"He didn't tell me."

"He wouldn't."

I close my eyes, and try to picture it. My dad, as loving and open as society lets him be, with something dark in his eyes before he left. He had hugged me, I remember, biting my lip. Dad hadn't hugged in me years. Not since I was just a little girl.

"Did you know?" I ask.

Mom doesn't answer for a moment. I look over at her, her short blue hair slick against her head, her eyes closed, her mouth tense.

"I wasn't home," she finally says, voice perfectly controlled. Something heavy falls in my stomach, because I can fill in the blanks.

Mom had been on a mission, had been out of the village for at least twenty-four hours before Dad had even received his mission, I bet. She had left, expecting her husband to be there when she returned, only to find him off on a mission, which isn't that odd. She probably didn't even guess that Dad wouldn't make it back.

Dad had always made it back.

I turn my head, away from my painfully composed mother, to stare at the ceiling again. There's a faintly pink stain up there, just above the foot of my bed: a memento from my childhood. I had been experimenting with my chakra and had had a vaguely genius idea (or so I had thought, at the time) involving strawberries and chakra pathways.

"Do you remember the strawberry accident?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the splatter of pink.

In my periphery, I watch Mom shift a bit, her eyes opening. I can see her lips quirk into something resembling a smile before her face smooths over again, "I told you to get rid of that stain years ago," she murmurs.

I smile slightly, eyes tracing the edges of the stain —an irregular splotch about the width of three fingers. "I liked the color," I tell her, which is kind of true. The barest tint of pink had seemed like a nice break from the straight white of my walls. The real reason I had kept it, though, was because, whenever Dad had come into my room, he always looked for it. And when he found it, he always smiled.

Mom glances over at me, and I shift so that I can meet her eyes, "I miss him," I say, voice coming out garbled and weak. Mom looks away again, her face falling into the lines of deeply felt grief, her eyes clenched closed and her lips twisted into something heartrending.

"Me, too," she breathes, like it's been ripped out of her. There's a heavy moment of silence, before Mom seems to realize how emotional she's gotten. Clearing her throat, she sits up in a quick movement, her face once again cold and smooth.

Not liking having to look up at her, and feeling oddly vulnerable for it, I sit up as well, shifting until my back is against the wall. Mom turns toward me, tucking one leg under her body, her hands resting flat against her thighs.

Mom seems to sigh, her eyes searching over my face, "You did better than I would have expected, in the Ninja Games," she tells me, voice monotone.

I grimace, _better than I would have expected_ isn't exactly the best compliment a girl could ask for. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was entering," I say, not really meaning it.

Mom raises an eyebrow, a look of distant incredulity pulling thin lines around her eyes, her lips pursing tight together. "You should have told me," she agrees, "But nevertheless, you represented the Nakamura family well," she pauses, her eyes intently looking over my face, like she's looking for something.

We sit in silence like that for a long moment, with Mom having some sort of debate within herself about how worthy I am, or something. Maybe that's not what's happening, but it sure feels like it.

Mom finally seems to make a decision. "You represented the Kato family well," she says slowly, hesitantly.

My brows furrow, the Kato family? That's my mother's maiden name, and the last name of Dan and Yvette.

"Thank you?" I finally say, at a loss.

Mom quirks an eyebrow, a faint smirk on her lips, "Honestly," Mom says, "I thought Dan or Yvette would be the first to figure it out, but neither of them have shown any sign of it so far."

Okay, now I'm really confused. "Shown signs of what?" I ask, making an effort to keep my rising frustration out of my voice. Mom wouldn't appreciate that.

Mom seems to take a moment to gather her thoughts, before she starts explaining, "Anyone who watched the fight _and_ that can figure out you were the one causing trouble around the field, will think you did it completely with genjutsu and illusions," Mom says with a rare smile that I find myself staring at. Mom is really pretty when she smiles.

And then she drops the bomb.

"To everyone else, Miyo, you used illusions because it is _impossible_ that you used anything else. To them, it's _not possible_ to make other people change places; it's _not possible_ to force a transformation on another person."

I can feel my eyes growing wide. Impossible? It's not… possible, to transform other people? To make other people switch places? But that can't be _right_. What- what is Mom even..?

"But...why...how…?" I can't even think to form a coherent question to ask what I'm feeling inside my head.

Mom seems to understand though, "Most ninja can't manipulate another person's chakra without that person willingly channeling their chakra into them to use, Miyo," she says, succinct, completely blowing my mind.

"But, then _how_ —" I cut myself off, totally bewildered.

Mom holds up a finger, her face a study in cool and composed, "You," she points to me, "me," she points to herself, "and a few other family members that have already died," her finger circles around, as if to indicated these dead people, "have a chakra ability that most other don't."

"Like a bloodline limit?" I ask.

Mom shakes her head, an amused snort escaping her lips, "Nothing quite so impressive, Miyo," she tells me, "Think of it more like a forbidden jutsu. The Kato clan has the ability to subtly influence others' chakra, which is something other ninja can certainly learn, if they cared to. Ninjas who reach Sage level are known for it, even. For others, though, it would be very taxing, and would require many years to learn."

I slump further against the wall,absolutely poleaxed.

"Why… why haven't you told me this before?" I question, "Do Dan and Yvette know?"

Mom shakes her head, "The ability is rare, Miyo," she explains, "It is unnecessary to tell you before you develop the ability. If none of you had developed it, I would have explained when you were all having children, or there is a journal detailing all of this, in case I die."

I flinch, a grimace stealing across my mouth. _Die_. She says it like it's no big deal.

Mom stares at me, unapologetic.

I take a deep breath, trying to sort through everything; bloodline limits and forbidden jutsus and, and—

"How does it work," I ask, trying to turn my thoughts into something like order, "What else can we do?"

Mom snorts, a wry smile twisting at her lips for a moment before it smooths out, "You've already about reached the limits on what we can do," she says, dry, "The less trained the person's chakra, the easier it is to manipulate. With people genin level and below, you'll be able to do as you've already done —force transformations and replacements on them, maybe stop a jutsu before they complete it. After that?" she shrugs.

I stare at her. Thats… thats _it_?

Mom smirks at me, "I told you, it's not very impressive."

"What… what about natural chakra, or something? Can we manipulate that?" I ask, voice rising a bit in pitch.

"Natural chakra?" Mom sounds amused, "Maybe if you become a sage," she says, laughter in her eyes.

I glare, crossing my arms over my chest, "So, after genin-level ninja, this —this ability is practically useless?" I ask.

"Not completely," Mom says, her hand tottling back and forth in the air, as if to say that it's so-so, "It can be a pretty effective distraction, to tug at someone's chakra, and you can usually replace yourself with someone, if they're distracted enough."

I lean back, just… absorbing. Mom seems to understand that I don't have any more questions.

"You'll have to practice with it, now that you're aware," she says, "find your limits. Family legend has it that our first ancestor could control _all_ chakra." Mom leans back on her hands, face tilted toward the window.

"Legend says that Kubo Kato, the first of our clan, was born with no chakra of his own, and was about to die because of it," she continues, her voice settling into something low and hypnotic, "Chakra noticed the dying infant, though, and tried to fix the babe, filling him with it's power."

Is Mom actually telling me a… story?

Today is so weird.

"The chakra, while saving the dying child, never settled into Kubo's system, despite Chakra's best efforts. Instead, the chakra stayed on the outside of Kubo's skin, like an armor and a weapon all in one.

"As Kubo grew, he learned to control this chakra, even though he could never channel it through his body. Instead, he would channel it through other people, using it to manipulate their own chakra. This way, he was able to turn people into his own puppets, using their chakra for his own means."

Mom pauses, turning back to look at me, "The legend goes on to detail Kubo's supposed achievements, but I've never put much stock in it all. There's a book in your father's old study," her voice catches for a moment, "If you want it," she finishes, her voice soft.

She clears her throat, hands clenching in her lap, "After Kubo, the gift was passed on to his children, and their children after that, and their children after that. Over the generations, the gift has diluted, showing up less and less, and becoming less powerful every time it did make itself known."

Mom stands, brushing her clothes flat, "I'm-" she stops, looking uncomfortable, "I'm proud of you, Miyo," she finally says.

I suck in a harsh breath, staring up at her. Mom shifts, looking away from me, clearing her throat, "I thought you should know."

I nod, slowly, feeling like I've been rubbed raw of all emotions.

"I'm going on a mission tomorrow," Mom says, walking toward my door, "It's time to stop grieving. It's time to move on," a note of steel enters her voice. She turns once she reaches the doorway, her hand briefly disappearing into her pocket before it returns, a scroll held in her hand. In a quick movement, she throws it at me. I just barely manage to catch it.

I glance down at the scroll, and for a moment it looks black, black like death. Black like grief. I close my eyes, shaking my head. I look at the scroll again. It's a creamy white color, tied with some twine.

I look up, to question my mom, but she's gone.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

Braiding my hair, I stare at the letter from the academy on my bed:

 _Under the decree of Lord Tobirama, prolonged absence from the academy is considered treasonous as it is seen as being against the interests of the village. Third year academy student Miyo Nakamura has been absent the maximum allowed lapse of time. Should said student fail to report to the academy the day after this notice is delivered, further action will be taken by the corresponding area chunin._

It's a generic letter, with my name filled into the blank space, but that doesn't make its meaning any less important. It's the reason I'm going back to the academy today; otherwise, I might have waited another day or two. Maybe a week (a lifetime). I just don't quite feel ready to go back, but then, will I ever actually feel ready to go back?

I doubt I'm going to like today; everyone will probably have a lot of questions about why I've been gone and what happened at the Ninja Games. Neither are topics I really want to talk about.

The black band around my bicep will answer their first question. It's a sign that I am mourning the death of a close friend or family member. Everyone in my family is wearing one right now, and probably will for another week or two.

I have the unfortunate feeling that my family and the families of the others who died with Dad are only the first of many who will bear the black band in the days to come. I'm not a fool. In recent months, I've observed that the number of ninja being called out on missions has doubled.

At the academy, starting this year, they've been _heavily_ emphasizing the importance of being able to spot infiltrators aka _spies_ (Eggs has told me that even the first years have started an infiltration unit, which definitely wasn't the case when I was a first year).

Spies are commonly the first heralding of a much bigger conflict.

Dad was killed by an ambush at the border of our country's lands.

I'm not sure how much longer it will take, or how high the tensions are currently between us and whoever the other party is, but war is coming.

War.

In comparison to other things; the fight with my friends, the ninja games; war just makes them seem so small, so insignificant. What are the worries of an academy, soon-to-be genin, in the face of what will be the death of hundreds if not thousands of people; civilian and ninja alike?

War.

In a few months, I'll be a genin, an official ninja of the Leaf. I'll be expected to do my part. I clench my fist, the one I threw a punch with in the Ninja Games. I can still vividly feel the sickening crunch of my opponent's nose against my skin. The thought makes my stomach want to turn. If nothing else, the Ninja Games just drove home the fact that I can't inflict serious pain on others.

Much more than a broken nose, and I would have lost it completely.

I meet my own gaze in the mirror.

War.

Should it reach the point that they need genin… If they send me to the battlefield, I know I'll probably die. I'm not a fighter, I don't do well in head-on combat.

" _You've proven yourself apt at too many ninja arts to be allowed to have a nonmilitant life."_

Dad.

I sigh, gathering up my things for the academy. I can't afford to drag my feet any longer. If war really is coming, and I know it is, I'm running out of time to figure out a way to survive.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

I hunch over my desk, fingers tracing the fine grain. Coming back to school had not been easy, mostly because my classmates have made it so. Well, except for Noriyo, she's too lazy to turn her head to stare. For once, I'm grateful for her lackadaisical nature. Even now, I can feel Fugaku's eyes on me from behind, his stare burning against the fine hairs on my neck. And not just Fugaku. From all sides, I can feel my classmates' curious eyes.

I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a new student in school —I've never experience that before. If it is, I must apologize to all past new students that I've encountered. I am _really_ uncomfortable right now. The black band around my bicep feels especially tight, under all this attention.

For the past few days, I've been arriving as late as possible (without actually being late) to avoid an inquisition from my classmates. So far it's been working. And it's been easy enough to leave early, before anyone could stop me.

During class, though, I can't escape from all the stares.

I huff to myself, crossing my arms over the desk. At least I'm free from the scrutiny of the Hyuga twins. I eye the backs of brothers, silently mourning the newfound tension between the two. Not once in the past few days have they even looked at each other, or me for that matter, outside of a quick glance at the black band on my arm that is. I'm thinking we aren't exactly friends anymore.

Shaking away thoughts of the Hyuga clan (any help I would try and offer would just make the situation worse, I'm sure), instead I turn my attention behind me. Specifically, I think about one Caxin Shiranui. It's the first day since I've been back that the serene brown eyed boy has been to class, and I have _plans._

Patiently, I ignore my classmates and count down the last hours of class, keeping all of my attention on the boy behind me. Caxin can be slipperier than a bar of wet soap when he chooses to be, so I have to catch him while I can.

When we're dismissed from class, I once again dodge the other students and stick close behind Caxin, lightly taking his arm once we clear the building, steering the indifferent faced boy to my tree. Luckily, he seems to be in a good enough mood to humor me.

"Can I help you, Nakamura?" Caxin asks, cool as a cucumber when I've finally stopped dragging him around. I watch as his eyes flick to the black band on my arm before returning to my face. I hold back a grimace. The twenty-seven days of grieving will be over in a few more days, and then my family will all take the bands off.

"I need you to teach me perfect chakra concealment and how to disappear all the time like you do. Right now —or give your word that you will before we graduate." Caxin's normally relaxed features take on a sharper edge as his usually narrowed eyes open more to better expose his deep brown eyes.

"And why would I want to do that, Nakamura?" So, perhaps demanding that he teach me his techniques is a bit rude (a lot rude), but at this point I'm beyond caring about that.

"Because I made a promise, and come hell or highwater, you're going to teach me those techniques so I can keep it," I growl quietly, my nails digging into the skin of his arm. To his credit, he doesn't flinch.

"I'm not teaching you unless you give me something of equal value in return." His voice is cool and low, and I know no one else can hear it but me.

I furrow my brow, but nod my head after a moment. It's only fair I suppose. "What do you want?" I ask back just as quietly.

Perhaps, above all else, I'm just not ready to die… _again_.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

As graduation looms closer and closer, Professor Abe has really started trying to go about desensitizing us ninja-wannabes. His most recent attempt? Mercy killing. My classmates and I are gathered around a realistic dummy dressed in a standard Rock issued chunin uniform sprawled across the ground. It has fake stab wounds decorating it's chest and fake blood staining the grass below it.

 _I don't feel it when I hit the floor, my eyes locked firmly on the knife protruding through my sternum, my hands grasping desperately toward the figure before me, trying to hold on to something stable. No, all I feel as the shock quickly settles is a sharp, intensely overwhelming, pain._

"Now, students, can anyone tell me _why_ you might want to take the time to kill an enemy ninja who is already dying out?" Professor Abe dryly asks. I try and pay attention, but it sort of sounds like Professor Abe is speaking from a great distance, even though he's only a few paces away from me. It's just… I reach up and press a shaking hand to my sternum.

It's just so hard to breathe right now.

 _I slowly reach up and grasp the handle of the knife and the resulting shock of rippling pain joins and meshes with the still radiating pain from deep inside my chest, where I can feel the tip of the knife lodged into my spine._

 _A sob catches in my throat, and as I try to breathe in, the pain flares in my sternum, oozing into my lungs._

"Maybe," Jessiryn Rass, the rich civilian-raised-girl, muses out loud, "If you aren't sure the enemy ninja is really as injured as they're pretending to be?"

Professor hums a bit, and nods, "Yes, that may be fair. But if you fear that they are better than they are letting on, why not, in that case, try and take the enemy ninja in as your prisoner for interrogation?"

Rass looks stumped. I distantly realize that I would normally find that funny, because Rass likes to act smug and superior at all times, but nothing much is registering beyond the distant, remembered pain in my chest, where it is so, _so_ hard to breathe.

 _My eyes skip from the knife to the demon in front of me. His mouth is stretched thin in a mad grin below his crazed eyes, contorting his handsome face._

" _Althea!" I hear called from the front of my house, but I can't look away from those eyes._

 _It's a demon. There's a demon in my house._

 _A demon._

Hiashi clears his throat, catching the attention of Professor Abe and the rest of the class. I try desperately to pay attention, but I can't keep my eyes from flicking back toward the dummy and its bloodied, stabbed chest, "I believe that such an action will depend on the situation," Hiashi begins stiffly, his baring proud amidst the curious gaze of his classmates, "Perhaps, if you are close to Konoha or one of our border posts, and you are confident that you can overpower the injured enemy-nin, you can reasonably take the enemy prisoner." Hiashi pauses a moment, to gather his thoughts. I turn my shoulder a bit, placing my back more firmly toward the dummy.

"However," the Hyuga heir continues, "if it isn't reasonably possible to take the enemy-nin into your custody, it would not be wise to leave an enemy alive, with the chance of being saved or of recovering. In that case, it would be best to kill the enemy."

Enemy, enemy, enemy. They're really beating the point home, aren't they? No talk of gender, or that this is a person. Just an enemy. Like its supposed to be easier that way.

An enemy in a _Rock_ uniform. I wonder if that means anything.

" _Oh, Althea. You should have listened when we warned you off the case," the demon croons in a lilting, accented voice. It leans down, it's crazy, demented eyes locked onto the knife in my chest, where my hand is still locked around the handle. I watch, numb from the pain, as his hand reaches out toward it. I quickly release the knife and try to back away, digging my elbows and heels into my white carpet, but I can't drag myself fast enough. The demon, in one swift move, grasps the handle of the knife and pulls it from my chest._

 _There is a second of relief before the pain ratchets up again. Just one second where I can_ breathe.

 _The demon swiftly brings his hand down again, and I watch with wide eyes as the knife is once more plunging into my body._

 _I almost don't recognise the scream I hear as my own._

"Very well thought out," Professor Abe rasps, nodding at Hiashi. The ninja-child promptly puffs up, like a proud peacock. I can't find the breath to laugh at him. The class all nod to each other, as if what the Hyuga heir had said makes sense. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the dummy lying still in the grass.

 _I choke on a cough, pulling my arm from beneath me and swinging my hand out toward the demon's wicked, wicked face._

 _The demon lurches back with a hiss, its macabre grin shifting into a vicious sneer, "All enemies of the family will die," the demon spits, its hand reaching up toward its face, wiping at the bloodied scratches there._

 _Had I done that?_

 _The demon takes one more step back and disappears, "Au revoir, Miss Jackson," it hisses from the shadows._

"Now, I'm sure this will be common sense for most of you," Professor Abe says as he crouches beside the prone dummy. I close my eyes and press my hand harder into my sternum, trying to breathe, "but the quickest, most efficient way to kill an enemy that's on their back like this is to slit their throats."

" _Althea!" I hear again, but Agent Alec Seig —for who else could it be?— sounds even further away than before. I drag my hands up over my ribs and press them against my chest, where I can feel blood, wet and hot and sticky, beneath my fingers._

 _The pain is fading._

I take a step back, and then another, ignoring Fugaku's half chastising, half concerned look as I bump his shoulder with mine.

 _Between one blink and the next, Agent Seig's handsome face is above mine, and I can feel his hands first linger near the knife embedded in my stomach, before pressing over the hole in my chest._

" _French," I rasp, blood bubbling up between my teeth, the taste of copper heavy in the back of my mouth._

" _No, don't talk, Althea, help is on the way," the agent's face looks so desperate and sad, but I can't really hear him._

" _French," I tell him again, slipping one hand out beneath his and grasping at his bicep, because this is important, "He's French."_

"As you should all know," Professor Abe continues to lecture as I back up, positioning myself behind the clustered group of my classmates where I can no longer see the dummy, my breath hitching and catching in my throat, "the carotid artery is in your neck. If you have a kunai on hand, it is easiest to simply cut through it."

 _Everything goes dark. I can feel my chest rising up and down, as I try and breathe._

 _Breathe in._

 _There's faint, gray blobs moving in and out of my vision. A great, sudden pain stems from my stomach._

 _Breath out._

 _I can feel hands all over my body. My chest, my stomach, my neck, my face, my feet._

 _Breath in._

 _A swift, darker blob bobs into the corner of my periphery, and I try to flinch away. It's the demon! The demon is back!_

 _Breath out._

"If you don't have anything sharp in hand," Professor Abe sounds wry, and I imagine that he would be very disappointed in us if we managed to become so defenseless as to have lost all of our weapons, "then press up hard against where the internal carotid artery branches away from the main artery. This artery, as you've learned in your anatomy classes, is the artery that provides blood to the brain. Blocking it will efficiently kill your enemy."

This far removed from the dummy, I can finally feel myself gaining control over my breathing. In and out. In and out.

 _There are no more breaths in. Just a final numbness that seemed to seep out from my toes, inching up my fingers and toes and infecting my heart._

 _It's just gray, after that._

A bell rings out from the academy and Professor Abe dismisses us. I give a sharp, discrete shake of my head towards Fugaku as he walks toward me. Smooth as ice, he redirects his path among the other students, giving me a look from the corner of his eye. Noriyo slumps past me, her shoulder brushing against mine. I ignore the few odd looks I receive from others as I stare at the dummy, unmoving.

 _At least, it was gray, until the rocks._

My feet seem to move on their own as I slowly traipse towards the dummy I had just tried so hard to get away from. I focus my eyes on Professor Abe (it's the only way I can continue to move _towards_ the dummy) who looks like he's about to start cleaning up.

"Professor Abe," my voice cracks as my words come out more a strangled question that anything. He stops, straightening up from his stooped position to look down into my eyes.

"What is it, Nakamura?" I'm sure he notices how fidgety I seem, and I doubt he missed what just happened to me, but I'm forever grateful that he doesn't mention it.

"Can I…" I pause, taking a gulping breath, my eyes quickly darting from his face to the dummy and back. "Can I try?" My fingers slowly clench into fists.

Professor Abe blinks, the only sign that he's surprised. After what feels like an eternity to me, he nods, and steps back a bit to give me better access. Reaching into my pouch, I clasp clammy fingers around the hilt of one of my few kunai.

My breath is shaky, and there is an obvious trembling in my limbs. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, holding it until I can't before I let it go. When I open them again, Professor Abe is staring at me, a calculating look in his eyes.

"Either a slash to the throat or a deep stab to the heart will suffice," he says after moments of deliberation. A demon flashes before my eyes, his laughter in my ears, but I force him away.

"Right," I say quietly, bringing my kunai up to bear. I step forward, and stare directly down at the dummy. My eyes lock on his chest and the fake bloodstains there. I can do this, I can do this, I tell myself in my head. No, I have to do this. Just...just pretend it's a pig or something.

My grip tightens around the handle.

Just a pig.

Sweat drips down the side of my face.

A pig. Just a pig.

A demon's laughter.

Just a-

French vanilla.

Pig.

"Rahh!" I growl, going to my knees as I stab the kunai I'm holding into the dummy. Pulling it out I swiftly stab it in again and again.

"Nakamura, that's enough," Abe says firmly, his hand somehow having grabbed ahold of my arm at some point. I didn't realize that I am sobbing, my breathing ragged, my throat beginning to feel a slight rawness from my guttural growls and screams as I stabbed the dummy.

My chest _aches_.

I can't hold it back anymore. The cool metal of the kunai hilt slips from my fingers as I turn my head to the side and empty the contents of my stomach onto the ground. I fall to my hands and knees, eyes clenched closed and nose stinging from the pungent scent of vomit.

 _Dad_ , I think, imagining his warm arms wrapped around me. _I'll never be ashamed of you_.

I swallow down my tears, my hands coming up to cover my face.

I'm… I'm ashamed of me.

I wipe my face clear of tears and vomit. Slowly, I bring one foot up, bracing myself against my knee, before I bring the other foot under me, lurching up straight.

Professor Abe is still standing next to me, his eyes politely (if not a bit awkwardly) focused on the academy building, leaving me a small bit of privacy.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, voice flat.

 _I'm so sorry, Dad_.

"The merits of an untraditional ninja are vastly underappreciated these days, Nakamura," is all he says.

I stare up at my teacher, eyes wide.

"You are dismissed," Abe rasps, one eyebrow raised.

"I'll help clean up."

Professor Abe shakes his head, waving his hand through the air, " _Dismissed_ , Nakamura. I'll see you tomorrow."

I nod slowly, taking one last look at the dead dummy before I turn to leave. It's still just lying there, in a pool of blood and vomit.

I grimace and turn sharply away, reluctantly heading toward Merchant Corridor, mentally preparing myself for something that I never thought I would do.

I'm going to go buy some meat.

It's just that, I'm really, _really_ craving bacon right now, vows of vegetarianism or not.

* * *

Once again, we have managed to pull off a miracle, people. We were so sure that we wouldn't get this chapter done in time to post today, but lo and behold, we have been blessed by the writing gods!

Enter stage left: bacon cravings. Because nothing satisfies emotional trauma like bacon.

Thanks to each and every one of you for your continued support -every read through, favorite, follow, and review are very much appreciated. That 100 followers mile marker was especially sweet~! And with this post, we'll be exceeding 60,000 words. Progress has never felt so good.

Stay tuned for more kick-butt Miyo, and her upcoming graduation from the Academy. The pacing of this story is about to pick up a bit (hopefully -we never really know, this story just kind of writes itself).

The Splits


	10. Promises Kept

Posted: 3/22/17 Edited: 3/23/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Ten: Promises Kept

Slowly, I fold my hands through a set of seals. Slowly, _slowly_. Not yet. Wait for it. Wait… now!

Folding my hands into the final seal, I finally allow my held back chakra to snap into action, settling over my target, Caxin Shiranui.

As I watch, Caxin stumbles, his depth perception now completely disoriented as my genjutsu takes hold. Not one to miss an opening, Minato rushes in, kunai ready to strike. The sight of Caxin trying to dodge while bringing his hand into the ram sign to focus his chakra and break the illusion is rather funny I have to admit. Caxin puts up a valiant attempt to both dodge Minato and break the genjutsu, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that Eggs is _fast_.

Before Caxin can finish gathering his chakra, Minato twists, his natural ability for taijutsu showing through as he artfully dodges an off kilter swipe from Caxin and steps into his space in one fluid movement, kunai coming to rest at Caxin's throat.

"Dead," Minato says in an all too cheerful voice. I swear, for how nice the kid is, he sure can seem like a sadist at times; granted, so can Caxin. The two make quite the pair, and I have myself to blame for them getting introduced in the first place.

" _I'm not teaching you unless you give me something of equal value in return."_

" _What do you want?"_

It turns out, Caxin wants someone to spar with who can help him practice breaking out of genjutsu while fighting. I guess, ever since the ninja games, rumors have gone around that I'm the one who screwed with the battlefield (true), and that I'm a little genjutsu prodigy (not so true).

The first time I heard the second rumor, it was hard not to laugh, but if that's what people want to believe, I'll let them. Information is a ninja's best friend, and misinformation one of their best tools. No one needs to know I inherited a chakra anomaly from my mom's family, so they don't. Hence why Caxin thinks I'm a great person to practice breaking genjutsu against.

Unfortunately, while I am good with basic genjutsus, I'm not enough of a challenge in a one-on-one spar to distract Caxin for the genjutsu to take hold —we learned that the hard way.

 _I meet Caxin in the middle of the field, my hands coming together in a last-ditch effort to cast a genjutsu. As with all the other times, though, I am completely outclassed by my opponent. Before I can get more of the first seal formed, Caxin is right in front of me. I catch a glimpse of his gleaming brown eyes (so_ so _determined) before I'm flat on my back, hardly able to breathe._

 _It hurts my pride a little, to be so easily defeated. I guess that, after the Ninja Games, I had expected to be able to at least put up a fight, but against Caxin I've had zero success._

So I recruited Eggs to help me out. Caxin gets what he wants, I get what I want from Caxin, and Eggs gets in some higher level sparing (he's apparently gone uncontested in his own grade all year —a fact that has driven that Uzumaki girl crazy, or so I'm told). All in all, everybody wins; a rare scenario to be sure.

I release the genjustu over Caxin, and the boys break apart.

"Ugh, that was a nasty one, Nakamura," Caxin groans, rubbing at his eyes a few times to make sure his vision really is correct again.

"Just a little depth perception trick," I smirk, flashing Minato a thumbs up. "Good job getting in there, Eggs. We make a pretty good team."

The boy's head dips a bit. Despite his insistence, I've refused to stop calling him by the ridiculous nickname. As odd as it sounds, I think it helps to ground me a bit, the silliness of it all. The first time Caxin heard it, he just laughed, having a very accurate guess as to where the name came from in the first place since he was also part of the third year tradition. I make it a mental note not to let the boy find out about _my_ childhood nicknames, though. We don't need to make this a back-and-forth nickname thing.

I hop down from my perch on a nearby tree and meet the two boys on the field, "Again?" I ask, directing the question more toward Caxin than Minato. Eggs is bouncing up and down on his toes, a small grin on his lips —I don't need to ask him if he wants to spar again. Kid looks like he's having the time of his life.

Caxin turns toward me, his usual squinty-eyed look replaced with something probing and intense. He stares at me like this for a long moment, before sighing, his face relaxing back into his usual serenity.

"Yeah, alright," he says, "But I think we should gather up our kunai first."

Minato nods and immediately sets off, prying thrown kunai out of trees and dirt.

"Where'd you find this kid, Nakamura?" Caxin asks, an edge of humor in his tone.

I shrug, bending down to pick up a kunai. Holding it up into the sunlight, I look it over for nicks or anything else that would throw its balance off. I may not be fond of the objects, but Mom has drilled taking proper care of them into my head more times than I care to count.

"Minato's cool," I murmur, slightly distracted.

Caxin snorts, but nods, idly rubbing one hand over his neck where a faint red line can be seen, "He's a prodigy."

"Yeah. Just like you," I tell him dryly, shooting him an unimpressed look. Caxin had certainly proved that over the course of the last few days. The only reason he's been losing is because he struggles to throw off illusions (hence the sparring practice). Caxin smiles slightly at me, as if to say that he didn't know what I was talking about. I snort, turning away from the boy.

It… makes more sense now, why Caxin can get away with missing so much school. I mean, I take a week off after… after Dad, and I get a note demanding my reappearance at the Academy _or else_ , but Caxin misses _all the time_ and no one makes a big deal out of it. Watching him spar, though… There is no way that Caxin Shiranui has been idling his time away when not in school. No, his level of proficiency screams of extra training.

I just wish that we were good enough friends that I could ask about it, because being pulled out for extra training in our first year? That's unheard of.

"Hey, Miyo?" I turn, finding Minato jogging toward me, holding a bundle of kunai that he hands of to Caxin.

"What's up?" I ask.

"For this spar, do you think you could start putting me under genjutsus as well?" he asks, an earnest tone in his voice. I raise an eyebrow.

"Do you even know how to get out of illusions?" I ask. I don't mean to be condescending, it's just not something that's taught until second year. I really wouldn't be surprised if Minato hasn't already figured it out, though.

Minato nods, "Some of the older orphans showed me how to do it," he says, eyes serious and determined, "I promise you that I am capable of breaking an illusion."

I consider it, a silently appraising Caxin by my side. Illusions are… tricky. Not just to cast, but to get out of, as well. If a ninja doesn't properly break an illusion, they can face major mental problems later on in life, as the leftover chakra makes its way through the brain. That's part of the reason that genjutsu isn't covered until second year, so that students can get a proper grasp on chakra theory and control.

I sigh, slumping a bit, sharing a rueful glance with Caxin, "Alright, Eggs," I tell him, "Let me test you on something easy first, and we'll see how it goes from there." I figure that if he really can't break my illusion, I can just use the Kato family chakra anomaly and _make_ him break it. That way no lasting harm will be done either way.

Minato nods, lips firming and eyes narrowing. In a few years, I imagine that this'll be quite the fierce look. For now, though, it's just kind of cute. Like a puppy pretending to be a guard dog.

I eye the boy before slowly bringing my hands together into the seals for the False Place technique, an illusion that changes the appearance of an object. Technically, in its perfected form, it's a C-rank illusion which I haven't quite mastered, but I'm proficient enough of at it that I should manage on okay illusion outside of a combat situation. More importantly, though, is that it should be pretty obvious to Minato what's happening.

Carefully, I focus on the kunai in Caxin's hands. I weave the illusion. A ghost image of senbon overlays the kunai, looking to my eye like a see-through image on top of the real thing. To Minato, though, it should look like an ordinary bundle of senbon instead of kunai.

Eggs, genius that he is, doesn't miss a beat and instantly notices the change, his eyes snapping to Caxin, before his hands clap together with a sharp "Release!"

I can feel my chakra snap, the illusion not just unraveling, but completely breaking apart. I blink a little at the recoil I feel, mentally unprepared for how forceful Eggs is.

Right. He definitely doesn't need my help.

"Okay, then," I say, hands on my hips, "Why do I doubt? Genjutsu for everyone!" I falsely cheer. Minato smirks, arms crossed over his chest while Caxin just nods.

"Let's begin," my classmate says, rubbing his hands together, a competitive edge slipping onto his normally composed face.

The two boys face each other, their shoulders proudly pulled back, their stances firm. Rolling my eyes, I leap back, once again perching on a nearby tree, irritably smacking a leaf out of my face as I concentrate on the two motionless boys. Tension is high between the two, a crackle of chakra rising between them as they stare each other down. I sigh, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. The male ego, I swear.

The stillness doesn't last long. Between one breath and the next, the boys are moving, rushing in toward each other in a great blur of movement.

I wrap my legs more securely around the branch I'm on and carefully watch the boys, trying to find just the right opening for an illusion. Right now they're both tense, half of their attention on each other, and the other half on me, just waiting for me to throw an illusion at them. I want them to relax a bit before I start anything —it's no fun if they expect it.

Caxin and Minato can't quite be described as _great_ fighters, not yet, but the potential is there. They're both fast and very accurate for our age groups. I can only imagine that they'll both just get better from here. As of right now, Caxin has the longer reach, being taller and older, and his greater experience shows; but there's just something about Minato, even now in his first year at the academy, that echos of what he _could_ be.

I let the fight go on for a while, leaping through the trees around the sparring grounds to keep both fighters in my line of sight. When the boys seem efficiently distracted, though, I decide that it's time to make things interesting.

So far, I've been sticking to genjutsu that affect the sense of sight since it is the most commonly relied upon of the five senses in battle. I've found though, that I can be rather vindictive, like right now. Hands flying through the seals, skipping the first two, I create the link between Caxin and I and let my chakra go.

As soon as I feel my chakra begin to settle, I'm already running through another set of seals, this time aimed at Minato. My fingers go through the few seals I need as I internally twist and build the chakra quickly —Caxin's genjustu has barely had time to take hold when I release the one for Minato.

I'm not done yet though. What can I say? I feel like knocking both of their egos down a peg or two, and I'm pretty sure I have just the tricks up my nonexistent sleeves to do it. Let's see just how short I can make this spar.

Both of the boys seem to realize something is wrong as they go in for another strike, kunai bouncing off each other. Twin signs of release are raised, and I narrow my eyes. I don't think so, boys. You're not getting off the hook so easy this time. Reaching out with my own chakra, I subtly throw off their disruptions.

I never thought I would say this, but thank you Mom for informing me about our chakra anomaly —it makes some aspects of trickery so much easier.

Going through a newer set of seals Hanami taught me, I let my newest genjustu settle simultaneously as the boys' attempt to release themselves from my chakra clutches.

Feeling it take a proper hold, I can't help but give a dangerous grin. Get out of that —if you can that is. I cackle out loud, thoroughly enjoying myself.

Typically, if you ask someone how many senses the body has, they'll answer with five: sight, taste, touch, sound, and smell. What they don't realize (or perhaps it just sticks out to me more because of my other memories) is that there is another sense: chakra.

Imagine reaching for your chakra only to realize you can't feel it; or that when you go to use it, it won't mold the way you need it to?

Ask just about anybody and they'll say that the sense most humans rely on most is sight, but I beg to differ. Any ninja worth their salt actually relies on their sense of chakra first and foremost — _then_ followed closely by sight.

I watch with satisfaction as the boy's clash again, both of them frowning. They try a few more times, testing the waters I'm sure, to make sure there's not residual chakra from the first genjutsu (the one they're actually aware of) still affecting them (which they are, because I didn't let either of them actually release them in the first place).

Or, at least, I'm pretty sure that's what Caxin is doing. I'm not sure if the older orphans ever covered that with Minato. Oh well, he's the one who asked for it.

A dodge of a low sweeping kick and a thrown kunai later, Caxin raises his hands again to dispel what he probably thinks is the remaining chakra when he freezes, eyes snapping wide open.

"Nakamura!" Caxin's head whips towards my location.

Oh, he definitely feels it, or should I say, _doesn't_ feel it.

Minato has stopped in his advance on Caxin, eying the other boy cautiously as he turns on him.

"Minato, do you still feel like you're under a genjutsu?" I stifle a chuckle. Unless Minato can read lips, talking to him right now is pointless. The younger boy makes this obvious as he points to his ears and shakes his head.

I think the growing smirk on my face is perfectly compensating for the growing scowl on Caxin's. Brown eyes round on me, the annoyance clear in them.

"Nakamura, get down here and undo this. I'm pretty sure whatever point you're trying to make has been made." I slowly get to my feet on the branch I'm standing on, taking my time to dust off and straighten every bit of my clothing and hair. I can feel the impatience burning from Caxin, and by the looks of it, Minato is figuring out my trick now too.

Eventually satisfied that my appearance is as perfect as it's going to get, I allow chakra to flow through my body, and I _move_ , reappearing next to Minato. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I disrupt his chakra for him, dispelling both the genjutsu he's under.

Minato raises a hand to clear out his ear while I release the genjutsus on Caxin.

"Not being able to hear is really weird, but that other thing you did was even weirder, Miyo. How did you make my chakra disappear?"

"Like the kid said, Nakamura. What the hell was that?" Caxin may not seem amused, but I sure am. "I know I properly released the first genjutsu, but my feeling of touch was still wrong when I traded blows with Minato, and when I went to try releasing again just to be sure, I couldn't find my _chakra_."

I give a secretive smirk, wagging my finger at them. "Don't you know that girls don't kiss and tell? I'll give you a hint though; I never actually let you release the first genjutsu."

" _Let_ us? You're lying." Caxin narrows his eyes. "While it's possible to _let_ someone break your genjutsu, you can't just _decide_ that you're _not_ going to let them break it. Otherwise, no one would ever be able to break out of genjutsus until the caster allowed it." Caxin says in disbelief.

I give a small laugh. "It's only a lie if you can prove it," I taunt.

At the continuing stares, I relent a little with a sigh. "Alright, it was a low rank genjutsu Professor Hanami taught me that will mess with your ability to sense your own chakra. Against more experienced opponents, it's usually nothing more than a split second distraction." There. Let them think that I placed them under the chakra perception genjutsu first. What they won't know won't hurt them.

Caxin snorts, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair, "Good to know," he mutters, more to himself than to me, "Alright, Nakamura, Namikaze," he says louder, addressing Minato and me, "I'm done for the day. See you tomorrow before class? Around sunrise?"

I nod, seeing Minato do the same out of the corner of my eye. Caxin gives us one last nod before eyeing the trees off to the side of the sparring ground, "It looks like you've got a visitor," he tells me dryly before he disappears with a poof of smoke.

"A visitor?" Minato questions, turning to look where Caxin had been staring.

I sigh, cocking a hip and crossing my arms over my chest, finally paying attention to the smouldering chakra signature that's been hanging around the grounds for the last ten minutes or so, "Prepare yourself," I grimace at Minato before I raise my voice, "Get out here, Fugaku," I call.

The Uchiha heir appears next to Minato in a blur of movement, his face clear of all emotion.

"Egss, this is the Uchiha Heir, Fugaku Uchiha," I introduce before my black haired classmate can say anything, "Fugaku, this is my little apprentice, Minato Namikaze. He's a first year student."

Fugaku nods a greeting (looking a little exasperated, the poor dear), which Minato returns before the blond turns to me, a nonplussed expression on his face, "Apprentice?" he asks dryly.

I nod, shooting him a grin, "I'm teaching you everything I know, so why not call you my apprentice?" I ask, voice filled with humor.

The boy sighs, "How about we just be friends?" he asks, rubbing the back of neck. I can see Fugaku's expression take on a slightly impatient mien out of the corner of my eye.

I can't help but laugh, just a little, "Friends," I nod in agreement.

Fugaku clears his throat, one eyebrow raised in consternation.

"Hmm? Oh, yes Fugaku?" I ask, turning slightly toward my classmate.

Fugaku gives me such a dry look, I fear that Konoha will enter a drought soon.

"We need to talk. Alone," he emphasizes, eying Minato. I spare a glance for the blond, noting that he seems a little unsure and a little protective. It's endearing really. I suppose Fugaku looks like the big bad wolf here, but I'll be fine, and I tell Minato as much.

"You sure?" Minato asks. I'm sure if I asked him to, he'd back me up in a second right now, but I can handle a temperamental Fugaku just fine by myself, thank you very much.

"Go on, Eggs." I roll my eyes. "He's not going to eat me. I'll see you later, okay?" With a last glance a Fugaku, Minato gives me a nod.

"Tomorrow then," he says, giving me a pointed look before taking off across the dirt field. I watch him go, not for the first time mentally thanking Hanami for teaching me the flash step technique. It makes exiting so much cooler (not to mention faster) —presentation counts, you know.

Turning back to Fugaku, I raise an eyebrow. "So, what can I do for the illustrious Uchiha heir?" I ask, taking in his crossed arms and stern features.

The glare Fugaku shoots me is pretty harsh. "Where has your head _been_ the past couple of weeks?" he asks in that imperious tone of his, "Ever since you came back from being gone, you've been weird." Fugaku eyes me up and down, a frustrated sneer pulling on his lips, "Weirder than normal for even _you_ ," he adds on.

I bristle at the attack. My hand coming up to cup my bare arm, where not even a week ago sat a black mourning band.

"My dad _died_ , Jerk!" I breathe, incensed and maybe a little defensive, "You think I'm just going to waltz back to class after that like nothing has changed?"

"That's who died?" Fugaku says, his defensive stance loosening and his eyes widening as he moves infinitesimally back from my personal space that he has so unkindly invaded. "Sage! Why didn't you say something, Miyo?"

The insulting tone is totally gone from his voice, and I wonder at the change. "I thought it was obvious," I tell him, voice patronizing, indicating to my bare bicep.

"I knew somebody close to you had died, Miyo. Not who. You've been avoiding talking to me or Nara ever since you came back." It doesn't escape my notice that the Hyuga twins go unmentioned. I guess the tentative bridge or friendship that was there is farther gone than I had originally thought (or maybe I overestimated its original existence).

"Or maybe you're just too busy with your new friends." Fugaku sneers a bit, his eyes dart towards where Minato ran off to.

I- is Fugaku feeling _jealous_?. "I'm not _too busy_ as you like to put it," I say, eyeing the boy's guilty eyes and pinched mouth. "It's more a distraction than anything. I _need_ something to do, something to keep my mind occupied. You're more than welcome to join us."

"And the ignoring part?" Fugaku pushes.

"Maybe I just didn't know what to say," I tell him, throwing my hands up, thoroughly fed up, "You _do_ remember that the last time I really spoke with you guys it ended up with me practically _attacking_ you guys? Plus, none of you like it when I talk about emotions! Why was I supposed to feel like I could talk to you about this?!"

I breathe deeply, running my hands through my hair and forcing down the stinging behind my eyes. Fugaku doesn't seem to have an answer. The boy breaks eyes contact with me, turning his head to the side as he scuffs the dirt a bit with the toe of his sandal.

"You-" I start, voice cracking, "You _have no idea_ what my dad meant to me." Fugaku says nothing, his eyes studiously trained on anything but me. The silence is awkward, but I've endured worse. I stare down the Uchiha boy, counting my breaths as I calm down. One in, one out. Two in, two out. I only get to the count of five before Fugaku's patience breaks.

"What are you going to do now?" he grounds out, voice petulant and perhaps a little apologetic. You'd think I was asking him to pull teeth here.

I shrug, tucking my hands into my pockets, "I promised my dad that I would make a place for myself," I tell him, tilting my head back and watching the clouds.

"A place for yourself?" Fugaku questions.

I hum, eyes still on the sky, "If you haven't noticed," I say dryly, "I'm not going to make it as a combat ninja." I lower my head and meet Fugaku's gaze head on, trying not to think of that dummy lying in the grass, a pool of blood and vomit surrounding it, "I have to find something else."

Fugaku nods like he understands, his brows drawing down over his eyes in a thoughtful frown, "Graduation is in a couple months, Miyo," he unhelpfully points out, "What's your plan? How are you going to pull that off before we all get shoved into the Genin Corps?"

"I...I don't know," I admit, feeling all the more lost for it.

"Don't know, or don't care?" Fugaku asks, slowly unfolding his arms. "Before this, you were always pushing forward even if you didn't know what you were pushing towards. You just seemed to know that whatever it is that you were looking for is out there somewhere.

"Now though, it's like you don't even care. You seem out of it in class. I'd just about bet that you've barely noticed that one of your deskmates is missing." Fugaku pauses to take a breath, and he must see something in the blank look on my face since his sets in grim determination.

"That's what I thought. Reese was taken out of class the day before you returned. Rass says that he's back working at the candy shop his family owns learning how to make the Reese's Pieces that they're famous for. He never was very good at being a ninja, and he's not the only one. A few others have been dropped too.

"Everyone…" Fugaku hesitates. "Everyone thought you had been dropped from the academy too; until you showed back up with a mourning band on your arm, that is."

"By everyone," I say slowly, the words thick in my mouth.

"Nara and I were against the idea, mostly," he has the decency to look ashamed here, "the Aburame, too, but the _Heir Hyuga_ made a comment that it was about time they dropped useless people who couldn't hope to be real ninja, and a lot of the class agreed with him." His voice is practically a snarl by the end, and while Hiashi's lack of belief in me hurts a bit (I'm already well aware of his feelings), it's nothing compared to the stark realization that most of the class thinks I should be dropped from the program.

Sure, I'm not fond of the idea of entering into a lifestyle of giving and receiving pain, but I've still got my pride as a ninja (even if I haven't graduated yet). I can feel my chakra roiling underneath my skin. Oh, I am so pissed off right now. What gives them the right to say I'm not useful, that I can't be a good ninja? Do they even know what it _means_ to be a good ninja? If you discount the technicality, I was supposed to be runner up for the red ring at the Ninja Games. How is that being useless?

Apparently, I muttered some of that out loud, or it's just all over my face, because Fugaku gives me the answer.

"Most of the class thinks that you cheated at the Ninja Games. They think you hid and avoided the fighting until there were so few people left that you were basically guaranteed to get a good spot. Nobody missed how you substituted out at the end. Several kids in the class are calling you a coward, saying that even when you cheated and had a chance to win you still couldn't fight properly."

"They want to be ninja, and they're calling me a cheater?" I snarl. Fugaku raises his hands to keep some distance between us.

"If you'd been right in the head, you would have already noticed the rumors flying around. Like I said, you've been weirder than normal lately." Dropping his hands, Fugaku huffs. "It's annoying. You should prove to them that you're better than that."

If I wasn't feeling so angry right now, I might feel endeared that Fugaku seems to have so much faith in my abilities. It's only right that I repay his faith. I won't let him be ashamed of me as a friend, and I won't stay ashamed of myself. I made a promise to my dad, and it's high time that I get around to keeping it.

"Oh, I'll prove it alright," I say, cracking my knuckles, a plan rapidly forming in my head.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

Using what Caxin has been teaching me, I try to still my chakra. Completely hiding your chakra is even harder than it sounds. Simply hiding your chakra away in your core doesn't work. Hiding your chakra is akin to smothering a flame —there may still be heat, but there's no more fire to work with.

True chakra concealment is much more difficult. Everyone's chakra gives out a unique feel or signature. Mine usually gives off a gentle crackle of electricity, like an unending static shock. Caxin's reminds me of a salty sea breeze, and Minato's feels like a finicky summer wind.

To conceal that while still maintaining use of my chakra, I have to remove the _signature_ of my chakra, not the chakra itself. I've been practicing for a few weeks now, and I still can't get it very well at all. Caxin has apparently been working on it for _years_ (it makes me wonder if he figured out how to do it himself, and if not, who _exactly_ has been training him, and for what purpose?).

I take a deep breath in and hold it, mentally tracing my chakra pathway, trying to 'smooth it out' as Caxin puts it, " _The real key to concealing your chakra is to blend it into your surroundings. People stand out because of our chakra affinities. Get rid of your affinity, and most sensors won't be able to tell you apart from a tree."_

Personally, I don't know why people think that tree climbing is the hardest bit of chakra control a ninja will learn —concealing my chakra is the biggest test of control that I've been faced with yet.

Once I feel that I've 'smoothed' my chakra out as much as I possibly can right now, I layer a genjutsu over the top. At a cursory check, my chakra should feel firm and dry as an unmoving rock —just like Abe's. It will take a lot more practice before I can hold up against an in depth assault.

Looking at myself critically in the mirror, I see Professor Abe looking back. His purple hair had been the easiest to accomplish, what with mine only being a couple shades lighter and a little more into the blue spectrum than his. His face had been the hardest. Professor Abe, wicked ninja that he is, looks to be in his sixties and he has the skin that comes with it. Wrinkles are just a pain in the buttocks (and can be more readily achieved with a genjutsu placed over some light brown eyeshadow shaded over the face).

Critically, I pick at my clothes (some of dad's old stuff transformed to look like Abe's chunin uniform —I think Dad would be proud to see me using them like this), pulling at the cuffs of the shirt and smoothing the fabric over my stomach, trying to get the wrinkles to lie flat. It all has to look _just right_ or I'll be found out faster than I can blink.

With one last look in the mirror, I turn and jump out my door, quickly taking to the rooftops so that no one will have time to question why Chunin Ryusei Abe, an Academy instructor, is hanging around one of his student's houses.

It only takes a minute to reach the academy. Sparing one last thought about if this is a good idea or not, I settle myself into the mindset of my teacher (gained from a year of closely observing the man, both during school hours and outside of them) —infiltration is only half about how you look, after all.

I push my shoulders back and widen my stance, gliding through the academy doors with a brisk stride (something that I've been practicing all year).

I'm at the academy exactly one hour before class starts, about twenty minutes before Abe usually shows up. It's the only big hole in my plan (what if someone realizes? What if I run out of time?) but I can't be in the building looking like this at the same time as the real Abe, and I can't be too early or people will get suspicious, so this will have to work.

Striding through the halls, I make sure to keep my chin up and lips tightened into something that looks like I'm constantly about to scow.

I _am_ Ryusei Abe.

Swiftly I reach the teacher's lounge. I immediately bee line it for the coffee machine, working with sure hands to prepare a fresh pot. Professor Abe takes his coffee as black as he can get it, so that's how I take it, too. It's with a colossal amount of effort that I don't grimace over how bitter the drink is.

Keeping the drink in one hand, I make my way to the back of the room where the filing cabinets are placed.

"Ryusei?" A voice calls. A very, very familiar voice.

I slowly pull open the drawer labeled with Abe's name as I half turn toward the door, "Hanami," I say, dry and raspy as the desert. Learning how to manipulate my voice had been my biggest trial, but I had conquered shortening or lengthening the sound waves leaving my throat with chakra, so that I could easily lower and raise the pitch of my voice.

Hanami Tachibana, my kunoichi teacher. Of course she's here. If I can play this right, though…

Turning my back once more on Hanami (because Abe is a bit of a cold fish) I rifle through my class files. They aren't arranged alphabetically, in fact I can't make heads or tails of how they're ordered, so it takes a moment to find my name.

"Good morning. You're here early today, Ryusei," Hanami comments as she pours herself a cup of coffee, sounding a little bewildered. Abe doesn't answer anything less than a direct question, though, so I simply hum in acknowledgment.

Silence. Tense, painful silence. I find my folder and pull it out, pretending to flip through its contents, but too tense to actually take anything in.

"Well, good luck with your class today, then," Hanami offers, continuing her one-sided conversation, "Are you sending any more students home? I bet that that's why you're early."

Laying my folder flat over the drawer, I idly flip through its pages, "Hmm," I turn my head slightly toward Hinami, offering her a flat gaze, "Not that I can say." Something like which kid is getting kicked out of the academy is a confidential sort of thing, right? Plus, from what I've observed, Abe isn't the sort to give out information anyways.

Hanami chuckles, and I can see her shaking her head before I turn back to my folder. I'm _so close_.

"Alright, I get it. I'll find out later like everybody else." I can hear Hanami gulp down the last of her coffee before the sink turns on, "I'll see you around, Ryusei. I'm taking the first year girls to the greenhouse today —they should all be waiting for me outside, in fact."

I flick my hand up in farewell, listening intently as she steps out of the room and tracing her chakra as she leaves the building, and then finally the academy grounds. I spare a glance behind me with a sigh of relief, noting that the door has been closed completely. As I do, I spot the clock.

The clock, which can't be correct.

Immediately, despair rushes through me, shaking my limbs and upping my heart rate.

That can't be the time. It _can't_ be. But it is. Making a pot of coffee and standing frozen _like an idiot_ while Hanami drank hers and then tracking her as she left had eaten up more time that I had noticed. It's been seventeen minutes since I entered the Academy, and it is well past time for me to leave.

The real Abe will be here any minute, and I can't afford for anyone to see us both.

Snapping my file shut, I grab it up and tuck it under my arm. Turning on my heel, I forcibly manipulate my chakra, uncaring of the drain an almost full chakra transformation will place on my reserves, and picture Hanami Tachibana's face, her chunin uniform, the scent of her perfume, the long fall of her hair, the sparkle of her green eyes. I imagine the shading I have on my face shifting from wrinkles to a sharp contour. I rip my hair out of the strict bun it's in and let it hang free, changing the color from rich purple to dark brown. I reshape my chakra into something that feels like velvet. I shift my walking from 'glaringly proficient' to 'gracefully seductive.'

By the time I open the door, I am Hanami Tachibana.

Stepping outside of the room, I smile and greet the real Ryusei Abe with a cheery "Good morning. You're here right on time, as usual."

Abe hums and nods a greeting, but doesn't say anything. I force down a smile, stepping out of Abe's way so that he can enter the break room. The more I make this sound like the conversation that I just had with the real Hanami, the better things will be for me later: "Sending any students home today?" I ask, voice light.

Abe spares me a look, "I couldn't say," he rasps.

I nod, "Fair enough. I guess I'll just find out later, like everybody else. See you around, Ryusei. I've got to get to the greenhouses —I'm showing the first year girls around today." Abe offers me a nod in goodbye, shutting the door to the break room in my face. I chuckle, laying a hand on my heart in relief.

Right, it's definitely time to go. Before I run into anyone else.

As I turn, though, I feel someone step up next to me, an arm settling around my shoulder. Sharply, I turn and step back, putting distance between myself and the person who snuck up on me.

In front of me is a tall young man, with long white hair held in a low ponytail and amused black eyes. The… the chunin referee from the Ninja Games.

Before I can even open my mouth, the chunin dangles a forehead protector in front of my face, the stylized leaf symbol hovering right in front of my eyes.

"Congrats, kid," the teenager says, voice amused, "You just passed your graduation exam."

With a slightly trembling hand I reach forward and grasp the forehead protector. I sweep my thumb over the engraved leaf symbol in awe. "I've… graduated?" I ask, voice shaky. I drag my eyes away from the symbol of achievement in my hands and stare up at the chunin, "How? I don't understand. Who even are you?"

* * *

Fun fact for you all: young adult novels are, on average, between 55 and 90 thousand words (the first Harry Potter book was 76,944 words). With the posting of this chapter we've hit 69,729 words (without all of our author's notes included) and 135 pages on a google doc (which would be about a 232 page novel, if we say that there are 300 words per page). We've also taken Miyo completely through the academy, introduced most of the main characters, given you a basic idea of the world, and we've hinted at the bigger conflicts that will be taking place through out the rest of Miyo's story. You know what all of this sounds like to us? One whole, complete, finished book.

*crying* we're so proud of ourselves.

That all being said, we, of course, won't be posting the rest of a story separately, so we'll just call this the end of part one, instead.

We really, _really_ hope that you've been enjoying yourselves. We've gotten some amazing reviews, and we appreciate all the follows and favorites. Plus, an extra shout out to you lurkers -we relate so much to you guys.

A big thank you to all of you!

The Splits


	11. Misfit

Posted: 4/5/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Part Two: Laugh at You

Chapter Eleven: Misfit

With every slap of my feet against the ground a rush of fire spreads through my shaking muscles. Every time I breathe in a band constricts around my lungs and the taste of copper lingers at the back of my throat. My heart beat has migrated from my chest to my legs and hands, sweat coats my body, my vision has narrowed to what's right in front of me.

All in all: graduation? Zero-out-of-ten, no stars given, would not recommend.

With one last hurdle I throw myself down from the roof and, planting a hand on the wall with a bit of chakra for leverage, I swing myself through an open window leading into the administration building for the genin corps.

I land in a crouch, my hands planted on the floor keeping me up, my breath coming in uncontrollable pants. Slowly I push myself onto my feet, my muscles shaking and feeling like they're about to give out. It takes everything in me to walk calmly out of the small break room I had landed in and through the maze like halls to the main office.

"Miyo!" an exuberant voice greets, echoed by a low _woof_.

"Tsume, Kuromaru," I greet the Chunin and her dog, mastering my breathing and hiding my fatigue with a wry grin.

"You're certainly starting to make good time," Tsume cheers, a sharp grin on her face, "Shave a few more minutes off and we'll make a proper courier out of you yet!"

I shrug, stepping up to the chunin's desk and handing her a signed form, "Straight from the Jounin Commander's desk," I tell the Inuzuka, mentally whining. A _few more minutes?_ It's evident to me now that graduation was not a reward, but a punishment, _a few more minutes!_

The dog and it's master look over the form with sharp eyes, before she stuffs it into a folder and places it into a seemingly random bin, "Alright," the girl cheers, and I can't make out if it's fake or not —Tsume's not the type of chunin that's happy to be behind a desk, but she takes her job seriously, "You're done for the day."

I nod my gratitude, "See you tomorrow?" I ask. Tsume's been the chunin on desk duty everyday since I started.

Tsume shakes her head, a wide grin shaping her lips and stretching the tattoos on her face —it's a bit of an odd sight, to see such blatant emotion, but all Inuzuka's seem to completely ignore the 'no emotion' rule. "Nah," she says, a happy growl in her voice, "I'm officially off the desk rosters for the next month or two."

I allow myself a small smile, "I bet you're very happy to hear that," I say.

Tsume lets out a bark of a laugh, her dog panting happily by her side, "You can say that again!" she cheers with a wicked smirk, "I've missed the sparring grounds!" A speculative look enters her eyes then, and something about it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Say," she says, slowly, "You wanna spar with me?"

I blink in shock, managing to contain the rest of my emotions, "Me?" I ask the chunin incredulously, " _Why_?"

Tsume laughs, but that unsettling gleam is still in her eyes, "I saw you at the Games," she tells me, her hands planted on her hips, "You got some fancy-pants moves there, Nakamura."

I stare at the Inuzuka, just… tired, and a little flattered, if I'm being honest. Everyone I've met in the genin corps has had a healthy sort of respect for Tsume Inuzuka and her partner, Kuromaru. It's kind of cool that she would want to spar with me.

I'm not suicidal, though, so, "Ah, I don't think that would be a good idea," I say, making sure to keep eye contact, something that Tsume seems to appreciate, "I'm horrid at one-on-one fights."

"That's the point of sparring, kid," Tsume says, sounding amused, "To get better under friendly conditions. Practice makes perfect, or whatever."

I rub the back of my neck, resisting the urge to look away, "I'm not really looking to get better," I say, cringing a little under her judgmental gaze, but I'm just exhausted enough to ignore all her warning signs, "Not right now, not with combat."

A speculative look enters Tsume's eyes and her arms cross over her chest. Before she can say anything though (and boy does it look like she has a lot to say), a fast becoming familiar arm slings itself over my shoulder, almost causing my shaking knees to buckle.

"Miyo would love to spar with you, Tsume! Thanks for offering!" Sakumo Hatake says cheerfully, his hand squeezing my shoulder.

I could just scream. I really could.

"Tomorrow?" Sakumo continues as he starts to guide me away from the desk and out the door, "Training ground nine? Sunrise?"

Tsume laughs, a boisterous sound that draws bewildered and slightly awkward looks from the other genin and chunin around the room, "I'll be there!" she calls after us.

In the hall I shake off Sakumo's arm, my exhaustion stealing away most of my annoyance.

"I don't like you at all," I tell the white haired boy, voice coming out monotone.

Sakumo pretends to look hurt as he continues to guide me through the maze that is the genin corps, heading toward the front door, "What a horrible thing to say to the guy who is taking you under their wing!"

I snort, crossing my arms, trying to ignore the increasing shaking coming from my legs, "It's not exactly like I had that much of a choice," I grumble.

 _With a slightly trembling hand I reach forward and grasp the forehead protector swaying slightly in front of my face. I sweep my thumb over the engraved leaf symbol in awe. "I've… graduated?" I ask, voice shaky and still taking on the rich, seductive tones of Hanami. I drag my eyes away from the symbol of achievement in my hands and stare up at the chunin, "How? I don't understand. Who even are you?"_

 _The white haired teenager smirks, drawing himself up to his full height, his hands tucking into pockets of his chunin vest, "I'm Sakumo Hatake, your new field commander."_

" _Field… commander?" I ask, hands clenching around the Konoha forehead protector in my grasp, completely lost now, "Like in the genin corp?"_

 _Sakumo shakes his head, "Not exactly. Or, not only, I should say. We don't pull out genin from the academy just to stick them into the genin crops," he tries to explain, but I'm really not getting it, "If that was how it worked, then we wouldn't pull out from the academy, since all graduates go straight to the corps anyways. You get me?"_

 _I shake my head no. I really, really don't 'get' him._

 _Sakumo sighs and shakes his head, as if I'm being deliberately obtuse, "Graduated genin go straight to the Genin Corps, right?" he asks voice amused._

 _I nod my head, but Sakumo raises an eyebrow as if expecting more from me, and my brain flounders for something to say, "Typical procedure dictates that upon an academy class reaching graduation into the genin corps, all members of the class, except those chosen for an apprenticeship, are to be paired off with another graduate who will remain their partner until otherwise told by their commanding chunin officer._

" _These pairs are then matched with other partnerships in the corp so that four and six man teams can be made up with the necessary skills for a mission." I sort of drawl, sounding as if I was reading straight from a textbook. Which, I mean, technically? I kind of am. I can picture the exact page my quate had come from._

 _Sakumo raises an impressed eyebrow, "Nice memory," he mutters, more to himself than me, his hand rubbing his chin in thought before he seems to shake himself out of it with a clap of his hands, "Well, you're a bit of a special case, Miyo."_

 _I cross my arms, the metal of the forehead protector warm against my ribs, even through my shirt, my academy folder tucked against my side, "Special how?" I ask._

" _You've shown skills beyond your rank," Sakumo explains, his voice sounding serious for the first time since I heard him explain the rules at the Ninja Games, "and you've received high recommendation from your academy teachers, not to mention the show you put on at the Games, so an exception has been made for you to graduate early under my purview."_

 _I grimace, tightening my hands against my ribs, "Who made this exception? What skills?"_

" _You have lots of questions, huh?" Sakumo asks, chuckling a bit, "Most genin would just be excited."_

 _I shrug, still eyeing the man. I'm really starting to feel the chakra drain from keeping up my Hanami transformation, and I'm confused, so honestly I'm just starting to wonder when I can get home, where things will hopefully make sense again._

" _Our superiors," Sakumo starts, breaking me from my thoughts, "always watch the graduating class, looking for genin that show special skills that would fill a specialization. Specifically, you were noticed for your potential to join K.I.S.S. Potential that you proved in the Games and proved again today," he blatantly eyes me up and down, still transformed perfectly as Hanami Tachibana._

" _Kiss?"_

 _Sakumo smirks, "K- I- S- S-." he spells out, "Konoha's Infiltration and Security Squad. I'll explain more to you about all that later, for now you and I have a lot of paperwork to fill out." Sakumo gestures, trying to lead me away from the hall._

 _I frown, shaking my head, "What if I refuse?" I ask._

 _Sakumo's smirk comes back full force, "You shouldn't have accepted the forehead protector then, kid," he says, voice teasing, "It's too late to back out now."_

 _My hand clenches around the protector, and I feel more and more like I'm being backed into a corner that I can't see. Without taking my eyes off of Sakumo, I take a step back and knock briskly on the teacher's lounge door while simultaneously dropping my illusion so that I'm standing there in my dad's old clothes with makeup smudged across my face._

 _Oddly enough, Sakumo looks approving._

 _The door opens almost immediately, and there stands Professor Abe, a slight scowl on his face, "Are you going to return that folder now, Genin Nakamura?" he asks in a rasp, hand outraised, "Class starts in five minutes, and visitors aren't allowed on academy grounds during class hours, former student or not."_

 _In a haze I hand over the folder —that just cinches it, doesn't it? I had hoped that Abe would open the door and explain that this was another test, but staring into my teacher's eyes —my former teacher's eyes, I see the truth written there. I've really graduated. This is all really happening, with Sakumo Hatake and K.I.S.S. and everything._

"Come on," Sakumo says, pouting, "that's not fair. You totally had a choice!"

"It's not really a choice if I wasn't told I was choosing something," I retort, rolling my eyes. "Tricking someone isn't the same as giving them their options."

"Bah," Sakumo waves his hand through the air as we finally hit the street, "Who wouldn't want to graduate early? And besides, you're just upset that I'm making you train as a courier," he smirks at me as we finally make it out of the building and onto the busy afternoon streets of Konoha.

I scowl, "Becoming a courier-nin isn't exactly what I was expecting when you said I would join K.I.S.S. — if that's even a real thing. And whatever happened to ' _We don't pull out genin from the academy just to stick them into the genin crops'_ huh?" I say, blatantly fishing for information.

Sakumo just bumps his elbow against my arm, "All in good time, Miyo. First, we've got to get you up to snuff!"

"And part of this 'getting me up to snuff' is having me spar against Tsume Inuzuka, a chunin that specializes in combat and tracking, _but mainly combat_?" I ask sourly. The way my legs are aching makes me really wish there was hot water at home to soak in instead of the eternally cold shower I'm doomed to have. Maybe I'll treat myself and stop by a hot spring instead?

If only I was still friends with the Hyuga twins, maybe I could get them to let me borrow a bathroom for an hour and enjoy their luxurious hot water.

"Now you're getting it." I'm pretty sure Sakumo is a closet sadist. There's no other reason I can think of that he would put me in another sparring situation. The first, and what I had futilely hoped would be my last sparring attempt, had been against Sakumo himself. The one-on-one spar went the way it historically always has for me —disastrously, with my back in the dirt. After that, I had thought that Sakumo would realize I'm not the sparring type.

Today just isn't my day, and it looks like tomorrow won't be either. Ugh.

"Make sure you're on time tomorrow. Tsume hates waiting, so if you make her wait, she'll beat you to an even worse pulp." Giving me a thumbs up, Sakumo disappears in a small whirl of wind and leaves.

"Gee, thanks," I say dryly to the thin air.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

I stare disinterestedly for a long minute at the ladybug crawling across the back of my hand before gently shaking it off and returning to weeding the row I'm on.

As tired as I was, and still am, when I arrived home over an hour ago, the sorry state of the garden had hit me like a punch to the gut. Ever since Dad died, the garden has been pretty neglected. He would hate to see it this way. This garden had been his pride and joy.

Working on another stubborn weed that has had a chance to grow much bigger than it normally would have, I let out a frustrated growl. I should never have let the garden deteriorate like this. Sorry, Dad.

Slowly making progress down the row, the sound of approaching voices reach my ears.

"It's around here somewhere." That drawling voice sounds awfully familiar.

"Are you sure?" So does that voice.

Lifting my head, I look around stretching out my senses. Three chakra signatures approaching; one that feels like smouldering coals, one that feels cool and wisps along my skin, the last that feels like a well contained torrential wind. What are they doing way out here? My house is nowhere near the academy.

"I came by once a few years ago. It's around here. You can't miss it. It has a giant garden, just like that-"

I stand from my kneeling position, absentmindedly brushing the dirt from my knees as I rise. I stare straight into the eyes of Fugaku, Minato, and Noriyo —who has her arm lazily raised to point at the garden, at me.

A few moments pass silently before Noriyo drops her arm to her side with a flop and shoots Fugaku a look that screams 'I told you so' to which Fugaku looks pointedly away and rolls his eyes.

"Uh, it's not that I'm unhappy to see you guys," I begin slowly —I think the tiredness from my legs is seeping into my brain now, "but, what are you doing at my house?" How did Noriyo even remember where I live? She came by _once_ for a few minutes in our first year.

"That should be obvious," Noriyo drawls, putting her hands in her pockets and slouching. "We were looking for you."

"They came by the training grounds asking for you," Minato pipes in, a sheepish smile on his face, "Since you haven't shown up to spar for the last couple of days, I figured I'd come along."

Minato's face takes on a sheepish sort of look, "Caxin has disappeared, too."

I blink, slowly processing what's been said. I must be more tired than I originally thought.

"Right," I say, going to run a hand through my hair, stopping just short when I remember my hand is covered in dirt from weeding the garden. Dropping my hand, I shake my head lightly. "Do you guys want to come in?" I ask, gesturing towards the house and clamping my jaw shut against a yawn.

"You look like you're about to drop dead," Fugaku points out rather bluntly, but I can hear the unasked question behind the statement: where have you been and what have you been doing?

"I feel like it too," I say as I slowly start towards the house, my friends following.

"You graduated. _Early_ ," Noriyo says from behind me, a note of incredulity in her voice. I lift my hand and ghost my fingers across the cool metal on my forehead; for as weird as it was to get used to the headband, it sure has become easy to forget that it's there. Almost like it's simply become part of me.

"Yeah," I sigh, "I did." Stopping outside the front door, I kick off my shoes. Mom may be off on a mission, but she'll still kill me if I track all that dirt from the garden into the house. Her clean freak tendencies have skyrocketed since Dad's death. I guess it gives her something to do.

I don't ask them to, but Noriyo, Minato, and Fugaku take off their shoes too before coming inside to gather awkwardly at the small kitchen table. I can feel their unasked questions hammering against me. I repress a groan; maybe if I ask nicely they'll come back tomorrow?

"I'm training as a courier-nin for the time being. It's exhausting, running all over the village all day, getting in trouble if I'm not fast enough." I slump down on the table, my chin resting on my arms. "My first couple of days were terrible," I give a dry laugh, "I kept getting lost, and had no idea who I was supposed to be delivering the stuff too."

"You were graduated early to be a _courier-nin_?" Fugaku asks, eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"For now. Once I'm 'up to snuff'," I say, making halfhearted air quotes, "then I'll start training in my specialization." I think. Sakumo likes to be vague with his answers, so I can't really be sure.

My friends share a look, and Noriyo seems to lose because she lets out a long suffering sigh. "Infiltration, right?" I nod my head slowly.

"What exactly is considered 'up to snuff'?" Minato asks with a thoughtful look.

"No one has been really clear with me on the details, but it apparently involves sparring with a combat chunin," I groan, thinking of tomorrow morning.

"That's crazy," Fugaku snorts. "You can't win against an academy student, what makes them think you'll do any good against a chunin?"

"I have no idea."

Minato makes a worried sort of sound in the back of his throat, "Will you be okay?" he asks, ignoring the faintly disgusted look Noriyo is sending him. I send a glare at the girl, minutely shaking my head. Noriyo sighs and slumps a bit, a disturbed look still lingering in her eyes. I huff and roll my eyes before sending Minato a small smile.

Apparently, even with the obvious absence of the Hyuga twins, I'm still going to have to put up with expressions of disgust toward emotions. Yippee.

"I'll be fine," I tell Minato. The kid stares at me for a long moment, his piercing blue eyes just as intense as they usually are, before he nods, shooting a disapproving look at Noriyo.

"Who is the chunin?" Fugaku asks, sounding exasperated, his eyes flicking between Minato and Noriyo.

"Tsume Inuzuka and her nin-dog, Kuromaru."

Fugaku's lip curls in a sneer, "The Inuzuka heir," he scoffs, "What a barbaric bunch."

My brow furrows, and I prop my head up on my hand, "She's not technically the heir though, is she?" I ask, trying to remember what I know about the dog clan.

Noriyo shrugs, sharing a glance with Fugaku, "She's the closest thing that they've got," the shadow user explains.

I nod in acceptance, but Minato crosses his arms, looking confused, "What do you mean, the closest they've got?" I forget, sometimes, that Minato's an orphan and wasn't raised with clan politics.

Noriyo sighs, as if a great weight is upon her, and slumps into a chair across from me. This seems to be the sign for everyone to take a seat, because my kitchen table is suddenly occupied by academy students. I withhold a groan, dropping my forehead into my arms, my new forehead protector cold against my dirt-flecked arms.

"The Inuzuka clan is different from most clans," Fugaku explains in a condescending tone. I keep my head down, wondering if my friends would be insulted if I fall asleep, "They have a sort of free for all brawl to determine the next head of the clan. Tsume Inuzuka is the current head's kid, yes, but that doesn't determine anything."

Minato makes a noise of comprehension, "So this Tsume might not be the next clan head?"

I blink, and it gets harder to open my eyes every time, "Rumor has it," I sort of slur into the table, "that Tsume is the stand out favorite to win the fights," I yawn, wide enough that my jaw aches, "Though there's a cousin or something that might win, too," I finish sleepily.

"Not the fool, Yuma, who's in our class I hope?" Fugaku drawls. I blink down at the table, my eyelashes just brushing my arm. Yuma Inuzuka… Who? Right. Our class, Yuma, puppy dog Jerens. Right.

"No," I say, drawing out the 'O', trailing off into another jaw-cracking yawn, "M- something and his dog Sha-something." I close my eyes, closing my fingers on my left hand into a comfortable fist, so that it better supports my right elbow.

Minato hums, and I can almost imagine the curious look in his blue, blue eyes. "Are there other clans like that?" he asks.

I try and open my eyes, but I can't quite manage to keep them there. A blink, two, and then they stay closed.

"Not any of the major clans," I hear as if from a distance, "But the Kato clan, which Miyo's a branch member of, never really has a clear heir until someone takes over, I think."

Kato clan? Oh, my clan. My mom's clan. They said my name, right.

"Miyo?" someone asks. Probably Minato again. Eggs is the only one that really _asks_. Everyone else just kind of _demands._

I attempt to open my eyes again, or lift my head, but I can't tell if I'm managing it or not. Have I lifted my head? How do I tell? I feel like my eyes are open, but it's still dark, so maybe not?

"Miyo." See? Demanding.

"Rights of heirship are determined by the head of the clan when all potential heirs have reached chunin," I try and say. I think I say it. It sounded right in my head.

There's silence around the table, before someone chuckles. Probably Eggs —emotive, enthusiastic, emotional Eggs. A hand pats my head and I hear a shuffle around the table.

"We'll celebrate your graduation later," Minato says, his voice fond. I make a noise of agreement. Yes. Time to celebrate. I want cake.

Everything fades away, though I vaguely hear myself muttering something about not stepping on the garden. Dad wouldn't like that.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"Remind me why you forced me to accept this spar," I ask, somewhat rhetorically, shooting Sakumo a dirty look. He just pats my shoulder and gives me a condescending smirk in return before shoving me forward towards Tsume and Kuromaru.

Steadying myself, I hold back the urge to turn around and pull a face. I doubt that would fly well with Sakumo, laid back or not, he's still my commanding officer. Besides, I need to focus all of my attention on Tsume and Kuromaru right now.

Without warning, I feel the need to dodge, moving almost too late out of the way of a barrage of kunai. I guess the game has already started then. Putting my hands together in a seal, I'm forced to move again as Kuromaru lunges at me, jowls snapping.

Dodging again, I frown. I have no idea how well illusions work on animals, if they work at all. I suppose it's worth a try though, flipping through the necessary signs, I project my auditory disruption genjutsu towards Kuromaru as I desperately twist around Tsume's fist.

It seems like it catches for a moment, but then Kuromaru is shaking his head, snarling in annoyance as I feel the genjutsu break. Definitely not a subtle enough job on my part, but it looks like genjutsu can at least somewhat take hold.

Feeling the hairs on my neck raise, I turn too late, Tsume's fist smashing into my shoulder forcefully. It hurts, but I force myself to focus my chakra even as Tsume presses her advantage. Being between her and Kuromaru is a place I don't want to be.

While my speed is adequate against some genin and academy students, I find myself face down with a large set of teeth at the back of my neck before I can finish the transformation.

"That sucked," Tsume barks out, a disgusted look on her face.

Getting to my feet after Kuromaru gets off me, I give a tiny glare in Tsume's direction, "I warned you!" I know I'm awful. What did she expect? I'm terrible at one-on-one or (in this case) one-on-two fights —especially where I'm the one. It's the issue I had with Caxin all over again; I can't use the skills I have to great effect without someone else taking on the brunt of the fighting. Only, now it's even worse because Tsume and Kuromaru are so much faster than I am to boot.

"You didn't exactly give me any warning," I growl. Bad as I may be at direct fighting, a blow to my pride like that still stings.

"That's a piss poor excuse. You won't get a warning from your enemy, so why should I give you one?" As if to make a point, Tsume lunges at me, hands outstretched in the strange feral style that I've seen Yuma use roughly once or twice at the academy.

Twisting back, I start circling my chakra through my body. I need to make some distance and fast. My concentration is cut off again as Kuromaru darts in, fangs looking dangerous. I try and twist out of his way, but then Tsume is there, face twisted into something feral.

Before I can blink, I feel my back impact against the hard ground, her hands roughly shoving into my abdomen. I feel a spasm against my lungs and then all my breath is pushed out of me. I try and breathe in, but I can't get my muscles to cooperate.

"Are you even trying?" Tsume demands, snarling into my face from where she's crouched over me, balanced on her toes next to my thighs. I fight against the panic that wells up from not being able to breathe, instead I jerk a foot up and wrap it around her knees. Jerking my leg further up toward my chest, Tsume starts to topple forward.

Using her momentum against her, I shove the girl to the side and sit up straight, bracing one hand against the ground and the other against my chest, struggling to breathe in.

I don't have time to get my lungs back under control. Tsume lunges at me from the side. Trying to control my irritation, I pivot on the heel of my hand, kicking one foot out toward Tsume's shoulder.

Instead of ducking away, she grabs my foot and pulls. Once again, I find myself flat on my back in the dirt, Tsume's glinting brown eyes just inches away from mine.

"Pathetic," she sneers. Getting up, Tsume looks to the side, teeth bared much like her canine companion. "Hey, Sakumo! Get your rear end over here before I sic Kuromaru on you!"

Standing up quickly, lest I find myself caged down on the ground again, I straighten my spine as much as I can and wrap my arms around my ribs, slowly taking in deeper and deeper breaths, getting my diaphragm into working condition again after such a hard hit straight to my solar plexus.

Sakumo seems to take his sweet time sauntering over to us. Judging by the tapping of Tsume's foot, she's about to attack him. "Does there seem to be a problem? You only just started." Grabbing Sakumo by the front of his flak jacket, Tsume jabs a finger from her free hand in my direction. "Yeah, there is a problem. This kid stinks! How did she get graduated early? Fancy pants moves in the Games or not, there's no way she'll be able to protect herself in the field."

Sakumo just kind of shrugs, looking down at the brown haired girl with a half smile on his face, "Miyo's not a combat-nin."

"Yeah, I got that," Tsume sneers, her facial tattoos twisting into something almost ugly. "But how did a kid, who can't even defend herself, graduate from the academy? I thought all those cheating rumors were bull!"

Sakume eyes the aggravated Inuzuka in silence for a moment, before a challenging smirk takes over his face, "Rather than waste words," he says, turning back to Tsume while detaching her hand from his vest, "why don't I show you."

In a movement almost too fast for me to see, Sakumo has a kunai out. Lashing at Tsume's face, he has a smug smirk on his face as he chases after her. I watch as he easily dodges Kuromaru's belated attempt to ward him off her partner. Within moments I feel like I've been completely forgotten as Tsume adjusts to the sudden change, her facial features morphing back into a grin, her disappointment at our fight forgotten.

Fugaku was right when he called the Inuzuka barbaric. Nothing seems to make Tsume happier than a good fight.

It takes almost a minute of me watching the fight before Sakumo's point dawns on me —I could slap myself I feel so slow. This is just like when I practiced with Caxin and Minato. I've been forgotten, the distraction I wanted earlier now provided by someone who isn't even breaking a sweat against Tsume.

I don't plan on letting this prime moment go to waste. Sakumo's counting on me, and I don't plan on letting my captain down.

Covering myself in a genjutsu to help mask my presence, I slowly start erasing the nature from my chakra, my mistake of moving too hastily with Kuromaru a few minutes earlier hanging fresh in my mind. These aren't genin. If my chakra signature suddenly disappears, rather than be helpful, it will probably draw attention to its absence.

I watch closely, moving around the edge of the fighting to get a better vantage point. I've never really tried to ease someone into an illusion before, but if there's a perfect time to start practicing, it's right now.

Instead of throwing a chakra net over Tsume and forcing my chakra into her system, I let out a small trickle of chakra, just a little bit that latches onto Tsume. Like pouring water from a pitcher without letting it spill, I moderate the flow so the amount remains consistent throughout the entire casting, my chakra molding and shaping around Tsume's.

Then, still attached to my chakra in Tsume's system by a thin thread, I start slowly moving through hand seals, feeling not only my own chakra shifting, but Tsume's, too. The girl doesn't notice a thing.

As the last of the chakra for the jutsu leaves me, I start going through another set of hand seals. Nothing crazy, but a visual difference of a few inches can cause a lot of issues, and I need Tsume to concentrate on something that seems obvious instead of searching deeper.

Sakumo doesn't make any indication that he knows I've done something, but the white haired teenager obviously outclasses Tsume, so I doubt that he's distracted enough to forget his own plan.

Casting my second genjutsu, I shift my chakra internally, and I _move_.

I land neatly in Sakumo's shadow. It takes a bit of effort to stay out of his way, but this will be _so_ worth it if all goes to plan. I _hate_ dirt fields. I hate getting pushed around in dirt fields. It's about time someone else feels my pain, and Tsume, semi-nice girl that she may be, has definitely earned a bit of pushing around.

Watching and sticking close to Sakumo (who has started dodging less and blocking more, I notice), I can see the moment when my second genjutsu takes effect as Tsume's hit flies a bit too wide of Sakumo. I can't help but grin. This is where things start to get interesting. Now, to make sure I don't mess this up.

"Release!" Tsume shouts, jumping back from Sakumo for a brief moment before charging right back in, Kuromaru at her side. One genjutsu gone, one remains. Using chakra to enhance my movements, I keep near to Sakumo, letting his movements and sounds mask my own (helped along by my first chameleon genjutsu).

When Sakumo jumps out of the way of a sharp hook, instead of dodging with Sakumo, I make my move. Chakra rushes through my muscles as I lunge forward, elbow braced as I slam it straight into the oncoming Tsume's gut. I buckle under the force and weight of her single-minded charge towards Sakumo. I feel a hip slam into my back as Tsume topples over on top of me. The sound of all the air leaving her lungs is quite satisfying until I hear Kuromaru's bark.

I don't have to worry though as Sakumo steps in and, with a neat couple of handsigns, takes care of the large dog. Poor, poor puppy buried in the ground.

Laughing shakily, I release the illusions I had placed over myself.

"What was that?" Tsume grunts between harsh breaths. I repress a smirk. An eye for an eye, and all that.

"I believe you called them fancy pants moves." Walking up to us, Sakumo gives us each a helping hand to our feet. "What matters, is it's part of why she graduated early."

"I get it now." Still half bent over, Tsume gives me a lopsided grin. "Nice elbow to the gut. Didn't realize you were so close. Normally, I can smell or hear an opponent even if I can't see them. I didn't even notice that genjutsu, and usually I'm pretty good at picking up on these things." I shrug, somewhat perplexed by the change in attitude.

"Still can't smell you actually. Did you sneak a second genjutsu on me after that vision one?" Straightening up, Tsume brings her hand up in the ram seal and casts another release on her chakra system. "Ah, much better."

"The vision genjutsu was the second one. I put you under the olfactory one first, just blocking my scent out so that you wouldn't notice."

Tsume shakes her head, finally straightening out, "Just your scent or not, kid, I normally noticed when I'm placed under an illusion."

I shrug, smirking a bit, "Well," I say, "I suppose there's a reason I graduated early after all."

Tsume blinks before leaning in and staring at me strangely again. I begin to wonder if I've somehow grown a second head when she finally relents with a bark-like laugh.

"You got me there, Nakamura. You're not so bad after all." Reaching down, Tsume threads her fingers through the fur on Kuromaru's head, which comes up to about her hip. He must have walked over while she was staring at me —I can't help but wonder how he got himself out of the ground. I didn't notice him at all. "Word of advice for you though, look into finding yourself a permanent partner. I'd recommend a summons or some sort of nin-animal like my Kuromaru here. You need something or someone to fight with you or you're pretty much useless, and a summons can always be called to your location."

I look from Tsume to Kuromaru. A partner? A summons? I had always thought I'd get a partner in the genin corp, but so far I've been stuck solo with no sign of that ending. Will I get a partner when I make it into the mysterious K.I.S.S.?

Where would I even look into getting a summons? It does sound pretty nice to always have a distraction handy.

"The village has a few available contracts, if your family doesn't. You could look into those, but the requirements each contracted animal give are pretty strict," Sakumo interjects thoughtfully. "It would be better if you had something more along the lines of a personal summons."

"How would I even go about that?"

"Try the Kafshe Clan. They're good with that kind of thing. One of their clansmen will meet with you and then find you a personal summons that fits your needs. It can take some time though; especially if they need to find something they don't have and train it."

"I think that is the most straightforward and helpful answer you've given me since I met you."

I can appreciate Tsume's barking laughter as Sakumo stares at me with an unimpressed eyebrow raised. I grin back at the teenager. Sakumo's unimpressed look changes into one of mock thoughtfulness, "Now that Tsume knows what you're capable of, Miyo, why don't you two keep sparring?"

I gape, wide eyes aimed up at my captain, "You can't be serious!"

Sakumo smirks, "No need to be so excited, Mi! I'm sure Tsume would love to keep sparring with you!"

We both turn toward Tsume, Sakumo looking bright and cheery, while I frantically shake my head at the girl. Tsume gives a thoughtful hum, ignoring both of us and staring down at Kuromaru.

"What do you think?" she asks the nin-dog.

Kuromaru lets out a hair raising growl, his eyes glinting in challenge. I gulp, taking a half step back, staring at the dogs sharp, glistening teeth.

Heaven help me.

Tsume takes one look at me and laughs, her fists resting against her hips, "Don't looks so scared, Miyo! Kuromaru will be on your team!"

Wait… what?

The giant nin-dog paces over to my side, his body brushing against the back of my legs as he turns toward his partner. He glances up at me and lulls his tongue, a friendly look on his furry face. Hesitatingly, I reach out a hand and gently pat his head, his fur slightly course under my hands.

Right. "Okay, Kuromaru," I tell my temporary partner, "I'll try my best."

Kuromaru lets out a bark of excitement and Sakumo claps his hands, "Great! On my mark!"

Tsume, ignoring her fellow chunin, leaps forward with a bloodthirsty smile on her face.

This is going to be a long day.

* * *

Sorry for the missed week, people! But we discovered that after finishing part one, part two wasn't nearly planned out enough to write out the chapter. So we took an extra week to plan everything out, rewrote this chapter three times, and now we should be good to go! After this we should be back to our once-a-week updates. Yay happy times! Thanks for your continued support!

We hope you enjoyed the chapter!

The Splits


	12. The Eagles are Coming!

Posted 4/12/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Twelve: The Eagles are Coming!

I hold in a wince as Dan wraps a bandage tightly around my cut hand, a disapproving look on his face, "Of all the things you could have gotten yourself into, Miyo! Graduating early? What were you thinking?"

I resist the urge to fidget, avoiding Dan's eyes.

"How could you possibly think that you were ready for this? Your whole body is practically one big bruise!"

Dan finishes with my hand and jerks my face toward his, studying the no doubt nasty bruise I have around my eye —Tsume sure doesn't pull her punches.

"And why didn't you come tell me about graduating earlier?" Dan continues to rant, a scowl on his face, "You used to tell me these sorts of things, Miyo!"

I bite back a scoff —mostly because just breathing hurts, but partly because I don't want Dan to get even more upset at me, "And when would I have done that? It's not exactly like you're around much anymore."

Dan's scowl deepens, his hand glowing a soft mint green as it sweeps across my face, "What's that supposed to mean, Miyo?" he demands, "You're the one who's been avoiding me!"

I can feel my lips twisting into something unpleasant, the grimace pulling at my split lip before Dan's fingers smooth over them, soothing the sharp sting.

"Me, avoiding you? No way! You've been hanging around that Senju girl-"

"Tsunade has nothing to do with this-"

"That girl has _everything_ to do with this!"

We stare at each other for a long moment, his dark green eyes glinting angrily, "I've been busy at the hospital lately," Dan says, slow and deliberate, "but that has never stopped you from searching me out before. _Tsunade_ isn't at fault here, Miyo. You don't even know her."

"Being busy at the hospital has never stopped you from coming over for dinner before, either," I snarl, shifting away from the cold medicinal cream being smeared over my cheek, "Or coming to the market with me. Or helping me with Dad's garden. Being _busy_ at the _hospital_ has never caused you to _make fun of me_ before."

"Make fun of you —Miyo, what are you talking about?"

Dan gives me a pained sort of curious look as he steps away from me, wiping the smelly goop off his hands onto a towel.

I cross my arms, ignoring the ache in my ribs and the sharp pain in my elbow, "My precious Tsunade is only impressed by top notch fighters," I sneer out mockingly, lowering my voice with a quick chakra trick and smoothing out my consonants so that I sound exactly like a love struck Dan, placing my hands against my chest and pretending to swoon backwards.

"What, Miyo, no, that's-"

"And then you _laughed_ at me, and you practically ignored me. I needed your help, Dan! But I wasn't good enough for your new girlfriend, so suddenly I wasn't good enough for you!"

"Miyo-"

"And every time I've seen you since, it's just been lecture _this_ , and you're not trying hard enough _that_. That girl has changed you! She has everything to do with this!" I glare at my cousin, slapping a hand against the bedding before hopping down from the exam bed and taking a step toward the door.

"Thanks for healing me though, I guess."

"Miyo!" Dan's hand catches my elbow, thankfully not the bruised one. "I haven't… I _have not_ just been lecturing you! Ever since Uncle died-"

I pull my arm from Dan's grip, turning toward the boy and taking a step toward him, " _Do not_ ," I shove at his chest, "bring Dad into this."

"You've been different!" Dan exclaims, capturing my hands in his, "You just —you're not the same! Entering the Games and getting into fights with chunin! Running away from every confrontation! What would Uncle think?"

I rip my hands from Dan, "He would have been proud," I tell him, speaking from in between my teeth in an effort not to scream, "If a little combat practice now means that I won't have to fight later, he would have been proud!"

I pant for breath, staring up at Dan, who has a conflicted expression on his face.

"Combat practice?"

I scowl, crossing my arms, my cut hand throbbing at all the movement, "I tried to tell you it was _just_ a spar, but you wouldn't listen. I told you, you don't listen anymore."

Dan grimaces, threading a hand through his hair before he leads me back to the exam bed, urging me to sit down, "I don't like seeing my baby cousin hurt."

I jump back up onto the bed, scowling as Dan runs gentle fingers over my shoulders and arms, his hands lighting up green at my bruised elbow.

"That's rich, coming from the guy with a massive crush on Miss Violence herself," I spit out, turning my face away from Dan.

" _Tsunade_ ," he emphasises, "isn't just all violence, Miyo. She's not _really_ violent at all. She's a healer, like me. It's how we met. But she also vowed to get strong enough to fight for her comrades. She's a protector."

Dan's voice is gentle, cajoling, his eyes soft and beseeching, "She just wants everyone to be strong enough to protect their loved ones."

"You're blind," I sneer, holding myself still under Dan's searching hands now smoothing over my aching ribs, " _That girl_ doesn't care about protecting, she cares about winning. I've heard rumors about her in the genin corps, you know. They call her Princess, because she walks around like she's better than everyone else just because she got an apprenticeship with Lord Sarutobi."

Lord Sarutobi, one of Lord Tobirama's old subordinates, is an advisor for the Hokage. I asked around about him after meeting the Senju princess. Apparently, he took Tsunade as an apprentice, along with two males: Orochimaru and Jiraiya (both with no last name on record, I checked), after the three of them had tied during the Ninja Games four years ago. Ever since, I've been told that the three apprentices strut around Konoha like they're untouchable.

"If you're not a fighter, she doesn't give you the time of day unless you need healing," I huff, rolling my eyes. Tsunade's sense of entitlement probably spawns from being one of the last Senju (she has a brother, I think), and apparently has only gotten worse now that she's the first healer really being trained for frontline combat.

To me, she just seems like a walking, talking uppity loser.

Dan shakes his head, a frown on his lips as he gently moves on from my now ache free ribs to my abdomen and thighs, "Then why would she talk to me, Miyo? I'm just a healer."

"Yeah right," I scoff, "You're _not_ just a healer. Mom says that they're already looking to promote you to jounin. You've always been good at everything, Dan." Dan eases the ache from where Kuromaru had bitten me, the little betrayer. Apparently I have to be 'prepared for everything!' according to Sakumo, the sadistic bastard.

I notice the little smile Dan tries to hide as he pulls away from me, sitting down on one of the stools, all my aches and pains wrapped up and healing.

"Just get to know her a bit, Miyo," Dan cajoles, his face gentle, "You'll see, Tsunade is more than she appears."

I shrug uncomfortably, "Only if you promise to stop lecturing me every time you see me," I say.

"Only if you promise to stop running away from me every time I try and talk to you."

I frown at my cousin, "I don't run away," I protest.

Dan shakes his head, a sorrowful sort of look in his eyes when he meets mine, "You do, Miyo; you just tried to leave before I was even finished healing you. It's like you think you can run away from all your problems, these days."

I roll my eyes, "I'm not running away from my problems," I tell him, a bit exasperated, "I'm walking away from conversations before I say something I regret."

"An answer for everything," Dan muses, more to himself than to me, but there's a tiny smile on his face. I can feel a smile tug on my lips, matching his.

We sit in semi-comfortable silence for a moment, and I bask a little in our renewed camaraderie.

Dan breaks the silence with a long sigh, "I meant to tell you how impressed I was with your performance at the Games, Miyo," he says, smiling gently, "I had no idea you were so talented with genjutsu."

I shrug, hiding a little smirk. I had forgotten that, since he hasn't shown any signs of it, Dan doesn't know about the family chakra trick, "Just something I've been working on," I tell him.

"Well, it really showed. Everyone was really impressed."

"Not everyone," I shrug, "Most people seem to think I cheated." Dan looks uncomfortable. I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Your girlfriend thought so, too, huh?"

Dan shakes his head, his eyes wide, "I told her you would never cheat! Tsunade trusts me, so she believes in you now, Miyo."

It takes a massive amount of effort not to keep harping on the Senju Princess, but I don't want to ruin things with Dan again, "I don't need her to believe in me," I say, once again getting off the bed and heading toward the door, shooting a small smile at Dan as I pass, "As long as you believe in me."

Dan looks a bit uncomfortable, but also terribly pleased, "Let me walk you home," he says, standing up and ushering me out of the exam room.

"Don't you have more work to do?" I ask. It's only about midday, not even close to when Dan's usual hospital shifts end.

"Yeah, but I need a lunch break," my cousin explains, nodding in greeting to some of the hospital staff we pass. I shrug in acceptance and walk with Dan through the hospital and out the doors.

"Is Aunt Mari still on a mission?"

I nod, tucking my hands into my pockets, ignoring the lingering ache from my cut palm, "Yeah, from what Mom could tell me before she left, she'll probably be gone for at least another two or so weeks."

Dan makes a soft noise of concern, glancing down at me with hesitant eyes.

"Tensions will break between us and Rock, soon," I say, feux-casually, steering the conversation away from death and loss and what-ifs before Dan can get the chance to bring it up. Mom's one of the villages top ranked jounin; she'll come home, I'm sure of it.

Slumping a bit, Dan throws an arm around my shoulders, giving me a pained ghost of a smile, "I should have figured you'd have noticed," he says, voice wry and strung out a bit, "We should still have a good couple of years before any real fighting breaks out, though."

I hum, thoughtful, "So long?"

Dan nods, steering me around the crowded lane of shoppers, "From what I can gather, the Daimyo is very hesitant to allow any sort of fighting."

I make a noise of understanding, trying to think through what I know about the politics of Fire Country. I know that the Fire Daimyo is a fickle man, bending and swaying to every persuasive argument —or so Abe had hinted at. It's hard to imagine a capricious, easily manipulated man like that putting up much of a resistance toward war, but I don't really know a lot. Maybe Lord Tobirama himself is the one holding back on war. Maybe Konoha needs more time to prepare.

As a lowly genin, it really isn't my place to question it. It's just too bad my instincts say to gather all the information that I can, whether I'm supposed to know it or not. A leftover from my would-be past life as a lawyer.

We leisurely make it back to my house, stopping in front of the gate.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Miyo?" Dan asks hesitating at the gate, concern in his eyes.

"Actually," I muse, tapping my chin in thought, "Can you tell me if we have any clan summons?"

"Clan summons?" Dan repeats in surprise, his eyebrows rising behind his bangs, "You're looking for a summoning contract, Miyo?"

I nod, rocking back on my heels, "Tsume Inuzuka, who I was sparring with today, told me that it would be a good idea to look into it."

Dan looks over me, thoughtfully, before abruptly turning around, leaping over the fences separating our houses, "Follow me!"

A little confused, and a little hopeful, I jump after my cousin, curiously following him through his front door and into his house.

"The Kato clan has one summons," he explains, leading me down a hall and into a disorganised room, looking to be used as a large storage closet. "When my mom died, we put most of the clan stuff in here."

Dan digs through the room, muttering to himself as he sifts through boxes before shaking his head and looking elsewhere.

I stand awkwardly at the door, glancing curiously into the boxes nearest to me.

"Aha!" Dan exclaims, pulling out a lacquered wood box, little birds carved into its sides. Dan opens the box, and sitting on a plush velvet pillow is a roll of parchment.

"The Eagle contract," Dan says, voice reverent, holding the box out toward me.

With slightly shaky hands I accept the box, staring down at the scroll with wide eyes.

Dan gently shuts the lid, pushing the box more firmly into my grasp, "Take it to one of the out-of-the-way training fields, write your name in blood, and put your fingerprints down," here Dan hesitates, staring straight into my eyes, "Even with your name on the contract, the eagles might not let you summon them, Miyo," he explains, a sober expression on his face.

"They won't?"

Dan shakes his head, his expression taking on a grimace, "They didn't let me."

I stare up at my cousin, wide eyed, "You tried to summon the eagles?"

Nodding, Dan says, "One of the eagles, calling himself Washi, appeared, took one look at me, and told me to never summon another eagle again. He said that I 'wasn't the one they're waiting for.'"

I gulp, clutching the box closer to my chest. Dan squeezes my shoulder, "You should still try, though," he says, voice gentle.

"Try what?" A nasally voice interrupts. I whirl around and find Yvette behind me, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes immediately zone in on the box in my hands, her eyes widening, "No way!" she exclaims, stepping forward with her hands outstretched. I jerk back out of her reach, glaring at the girl.

Yvette glares back, crossing her arms, "No way do you get the family summoning contract!" her eyes flick over my new forehead protector, a sneer pulling at her lips, "What did you do, Miyo? Cheat your way through the academy?"

I scoff, "You're truly a mindless idiot if you believe those rumors, Yvette."

Dan shifts from behind me, stepping out into the hall so that he stood between Yvette and me, "Yvette, Miyo, can't you ever get along?" he asks, exasperated.

Yvette and I scoff at the same time, glaring at each other, "You don't deserve the eagle contract. Give it to me," Yvette demands, holding out a hand imperiously.

I roll my eyes, "Get a life, Yvette, jealousy doesn't look good on you."

The girl grows, taking an aggressive step toward me. I prepare my chakra to body flicker the hell away from her.

Dans hand lands on my shoulder, and I can see that he's grabbing onto Yvette's shoulder, as well. "Guys, the eagles don't care how many people sign their contract, as long as they're in our clan. And they still might reject both of you. So why don't you both take the contract and sign it together."

I eye Yvette, meeting her own incredulous gaze.

"I'd rather do this alone," I say, tucking the summoning box more firmly in my grasp.

Yvette scoffs, crossing her arms, "That's just because you know the eagles won't take you!"

I scowl, tossing my hair over my shoulder, "You don't know that, nimrod! No one does! And even if they don't, it's not like they'd accept _you_."

Yvette lets out a noise of deep frustration from the back of her throat and stomps her foot on the ground, "You're not even a combat-nin!" she exclaims, throwing her hands up, "Why would you even want a contract with the eagles? They're _fighters_!"

"It's exactly _because_ I'm not a combat-nin that I want a contract with them," I say, fighting to keep my cool.

"That doesn't even make any sense!"

"Only because you're an idiot who can't think for herself!"

Letting out a war cry, Yvette lunges forward, "Give me that box!" Before I can even step back, Dan lurches forward and catches his sister in his arms.

"Stop fighting, you two!" he wrestles his sister into a firm hold, though she valiantly tries to escape his grip, her elbows jabbing back into his ribs as her feet stomp on his toes. Dan swears and picks his sister up. I can feel his chakra spike before Yvette goes limp, though her eyes are still open and her mouth seems to be working.

"Dan!" she screams, her body only twitching minutely, "What did you do to me?"

"Are you going to behave?" he asks, shooting me a pointed glare when a snort of laughter escapes.

"I'm not some little kid, Dan, let me go!"

"Only if you promise to stop fighting! You're a genin, Yvette, you both are! You can't be fighting like this!"

Yvette doesn't seem to want to give up struggling, though, "Tell her to give me the box, and I won't kick her butt!"

I snort again, coughing around my laughter, trying not to get on Dan's bad side like Yvette currently is. This is just gold.

"Just go together, and it won't matter who has the box!"

Yvette stills in Dan's arms, a defeated expression stealing over her face "Fine," she grunts.

Dan sighs, probably in relief, and drops his jutsu —probably some medical jutsu. Huffily, Yvette straightens out her clothing, glaring at me, "Meet at training ground twenty-three. Don't take too long, Mi-Mi." Yvette disappears in a swirl of leaves and smoke.

Dan sends me an exasperated look, "Do you always have to provoke her?"

I nod, very seriously, "It's my greatest life's joy."

Rolling his eyes, Dan gestures toward the front door, "Get out of here. Try not to kill each other."

Laughing, I wave at Dan and make my way out of his house, too polite to use the body flicker technique indoors like Yvette did.

Training ground twenty-three is situated pretty deep into the woods on the far east side of the village. Taking a moment to concentrate and gather my chakra, I close my eyes and envision my rout exactly, so that nothing will catch my by surprise. Foregoing the hand seals, I let go of my chakra, disappearing in a small puff of smoke (but no leaves, thank you very much, I'm better than that).

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

I watch with nervous anticipation as Yvette finishes adding her fingerprints to the contract, right below mine, "That should do it," she mutters, more to herself than to me, as she stands up.

"I'm going to go first," she says, demanding. I roll my eyes.

"Together," I say, crouching down and holding my bloodied hand just above the ground. Yvette rolls her eyes, but nods, crouching down and mirroring my position.

I meet her eyes, and a nervous understanding seems to flow through us, "Summoning Technique!" we exclaim in sync, our hands flowing through the seals —boar, dog, bird, monkey, ram— before we slam our hands on the ground.

A puff of smoke immediately appears equidistant between the two of us. As the smoke clears, a large eagle can be seen. It has a large brown body partially covered with a thick blue vest reminiscent of Konoha's jounin vest, a sleek white head, and a razor sharp beak. Slowly, my knees shaking a bit, I straighten up.

Eagles… eagles don't get this big.

The avian cocks its head back and forth between my cousin and me. Hurriedly, I bow my head, holding my hands flat out before me. I'm not sure if there's a protocol for meeting giant summoning animals, but bowing and showing that you aren't armed seems like a good start.

"Hmm," the eagle croons, hopping back on its talons a bit, it's wings partially spread for balance, its gossamer black eyes still swinging restlessly between Yvette and me, "Two summoners? How unexpected."

The bird's voice, obviously belonging to a male, is a deep baritone, and a bit shaky around the long 'o,' sounding almost as if he was about to let out a screech instead of words.

"I am Washi," the bird declares, his chest feathers puffing up, his wings stretching out to their full width, "Representative of the Will of the Eagles, elected by the Changing Winds."

I bow lower, "It is an honor to meet you, Washi of the Eagles," I greet fighting to keep my voice steady. Yvette echoes me a moment later.

"Yes," Washi croons as I stand tall again, his head cocked curiously as he meets my eyes, "It _is_ an honor, Little Chick."

Washi stares at me for a moment longer, before his heads pivots toward Yvette, his wings ruffling as he hops closer to her, towering over the girl, "Two fine Kato family members," the giant bird croons to himself, "Yes, I can see it in your chakras. _You_ ," he speaks directly to Yvette, his sharp beak inching closer to her face, "You are the Healer's sister. Most interesting. Your chakra isn't like his at all, I see."

Before Yvette can so much as open her mouth, Washi flaps his wings and a huge gust of air hits the dirt. I hold my breath and clench my eyes closed as the plume of dirty air reaches me. I hear feathers rustle and a hard thump.

"You are of close relation to the healer as well, I see it as I see all things." Washi stands right in front of me, so close that I can see his inner eyelid blink quickly over his eyes. I nod, struck dumb.

"Hmm," the Eagle coos, "A fighter or an illusionist. Fascinating."

I can see Yvette puff up out of the corner of my eyes —probably because she's been acknowledged as a fighter. What an idiot.

Washi takes a long moment to look between the two of us, his head cocking left and right in thought. Finally, stretching out his wings, he seems to have come to a decision.

"Hmm," the giant eagle coos again, his head cocking from side to side in front of me. Finally, the giant eagle shuffles back on his talons, so that he can see both me and my cousin at the same time.

"The eagles have been faithful partners with the Kato clan since the winds started changing paths, many decades ago," Washi's voice booms out, powerful and proud, "But the wise among us have declared that we may take only one Kato clansmen for a featherless friend —and yet, here two of you stand. This situation must be rectified for the Glory of the Eagles is at hand."

Washi shuffles on his feet, chakra suddenly heavy around him, feeling like a snapping wind against my arms, "You will fight me," he declares.

"Fight… you?" Yvette stutters, speaking up for the first time, her eyes going wide.

Washi turns his piercing black gaze to my cousin, a strong wind picking up in the clearing. The trees around me are shaking, leaves being wrenched from the branches. Small sticks and rocks kick up, I can feel them nicking my face and arms.

"Yes," Washi caws, his wings stretching out, his feathers suddenly taking on a sharp, threatening point, "Yes, Proudling, fight me!"

I take a step back, and then another, a rush of chakra flowing through my body, preparing to leap away. This… was not what I prepared for.

I see Yvette move into a more central location, her shoulders tense. She has a kunai clutched in one hand, her other near her face, ready to block.

"I will fight you!" she declares.

Washi screeches. The loud sound seems never ending, hitting me like a physical force over and over and over again. I see Yvette collapse, her hands clutching her ears.

I send a pulse of chakra through my system, disrupting the auditory genjutsu. I leap toward Yvette, quickly stepping in between her and Washi.

I let out a surge of chakra, trying to disrupt the wind jutsu that's stirring up the wind, quicker and quicker. It's no use, though. Washi's chakra is too powerful.

Crouching over my cousin, I take a kunai in each hand, ready to defend.

The wind instantly stops, my hair landing in my face. The silence seems deafening. I can feel a sort of sharp hollowness in my left hear, as well as something wet running down my neck. I smell blood.

"Interesting," Washi preens, tucking his wings back in close to his body, his feathers once again smooth and sleek.

Washi leans forward, his beak close to my chin, "Your first instinct is to run, your second is to defend —I saw it very clearly, Little Chick. You are destined for the shadows."

"Shadows?" I ask, weary.

The great eagle croons and shifts above me. I tense, feeling his beak pick through my hair. Is he… grooming me?

"Eagles are meant to stand out, Little Chick, not hide in the shadows like cats and little bunny rabbits," he softly caws, his sharp beak rhythmically picking at a piece of my hair and laying it flat, "How can we accept a partner that isn't meant for the same?"

Washi steps back, his head cocked down at me, "No, no, neither of you are right. One falls into the dirt and the other looks to the shadows for comfort. We are getting close, though, I see it. Send your children to me. Send the Proudling's children. Perhaps one of them. Yes, yes, the Great Winds are shifting again. I see it as I see all." Washi caws, his wings spreading.

"If you call me again, Little Chick, I will kill you."

With that and a puff of smoke, Washi the Eagle reverse summons himself, disappearing from sight.

Slowly, in shock, I reach up and touch my ear, feeling wet, sticky blood beneath my fingers. Washi burst my eardrum. He probably did worse to Yvette.

With stumbling feet I crouch next to my cousin, who is still lying on the floor, staring with wide eyes up at the sky. Blood is trickling out of both of her ears (staining her lavender hair) as well as her nose and one of her eyes.

I manage to get Yvette to sit up, though she refuses to cooperate further. "Come on, Dummy," I huff, desperately trying to calm my shaking hands and humming heart, "We need to get to Dan."

The stupid girl refuses to get up, though, just staring listlessly ahead of herself. I grimace, leaning her against a tree, hoping that Washi hasn't caused brain damage. I jog over to the box and summoning scroll on shaking legs, stuffing the latter back into the former, before sticking the thin box into my vest. I run back over to Yvette, who still hasn't moved, and hike her up over my shoulder, almost tilting backward from her swinging weight.

"You could do to lose a few pounds," I grunt to my seemingly catatonic cousin. Time to get this useless lump to Dan; hopefully he can fix her.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"So Washi didn't choose either of you," Dan says as he places his hand to my ear, glowing the mint green characteristic of healing chakra.

"No, but…" my eyes slide to Yvette who is out cold on the couch, her injuries already healed. "He wants to meet our children?"

"Really? That… that could be great news!"

I give a small harumph and shrug my shoulders. Honestly, it bothers me. Next time Sakumo deigns to pop up in my life I'll have to ask him more about the Kafshe clan, or maybe Tsume if I can get the information without fighting her again.

"No one has been chosen by the eagles since our grandfather, Miyo. Even Aunt Mari, who is amazing at combat, was denied. The fact that a future summoner can be found soon is quite a boon for our clan."

"I guess."

"Miyo."

I ignore Dan's exasperated face, focusing on the feeling of my inner ear repairing under the guidance of my cousin's chakra. It's an odd feeling, flesh restoring itself so quickly. If this kind of medical ability had existed _there_ …

"Dan, is it normal for eagles to grow so big?"

"As far as I know. Washi was rather intimidating with his larger than life size, so I get where you're coming from though."

Closing my eyes, I can see Washi's grand figure. Towering over me, large enough to carry a full grown person or two with an impressive wingspan nearly twice as wide as he was tall. They never grew that big _before_.

The beauty, the proud defiance, those are the exact same.

Opening my eyes, I step back. "Thanks. I'm heading home now."

"Miyo, please don't be so disappointed. It really was a long shot from the beginning, but it doesn't mean that you are lesser because you weren't chosen."

Grunting in acknowledgement with a flick of my hand in a wave, I walk out the door, humming a strangely familiar tune that I can't quite _remember_ the words to.

If the eagles won't help me, and Sakumo has obviously chosen not to, then it's about high time I take matters into my own hands.

* * *

You guys are amazing! 100 favorites! That's so cool!

We are also part of three communities now: Naruto stories that are worth reading, The Journeys of an Self Insert and OC, & World Crossover.

Part two (as we have started referring to chapter 11 and on) is about to take off in a very interesting direction. Hopefully, you all stick around to see it. We are super excited for what's coming.

Also, we are shamed. We attended a professional writing class together and were told that writing in first person is a big no-no (unless you are writing an autobiography). Shame. We've come this far though, so we will continue in first person for the rest of this story. (We did debate for a few minutes about going back and rewriting it in third person, but decided we've already done a do-over once. We'll just make sure our next story is in third person instead.)

As for Washi the Eagle, we both love him, and hate that he didn't pick Miyo, but as we stated above, bigger and better things are coming. Random fact: washi is the Japanese word for eagle, so we basically called him Eagle the Eagle.

Until next week,

The Splits

PS: Please keep in mind that Miyo is an unreliable narrator, and her views on characters aren't necessarily true. We bring this up because in no way do we want anyone to think that we are character bashing Tsunade, or anyone else in the future that Miyo doesn't like. This story is from Miyo's point of view, and _only_ her point of view: what she thinks about people and what is happening isn't necessarily the truth.

Thanks again for reading!


	13. X Marks the Spot

Posted: 4/19/17

* * *

Delusions of a Visionary

Chapter Thirteen: X Marks the Spot

"Another new courier today?" The lady at the gate says as I had over the delivery sheet for her to sign. "I finally thought they had a rather permanent one with that girl a few months back, but everyday lately it's been someone new."

I give a slight shrug of my shoulders, turning my head to look down the street. Today, I'm Raji, a mid-teenage boy with slightly roguish features and a permanent scowl on my face. I don't like to be kept waiting, and mindless gossip is annoying. People in general are annoying.

"Are you done?" I ask coldly, holding out my hand for the paper. It's none of her business what goes on in the courier division, and her poorly attempted weaseling for information is pathetic.

The lady doesn't seem to care for my tone, but that doesn't matter. I've done my job.

"Well, aren't you a rude one. I hope they never send you again," she sneers, handing the paper back to me roughly. "Shame a face like that is wasted on a scoundrel like you. If your personality matched your looks better, girls would be all over you."

"Not interested."

Tucking the paper into my messenger bag, I turn and begin walking. A few steps later, I allow my chakra to spread through my muscles, and I flicker step away.

People hardly seem to notice as I appear at the end of the street. That annoying presence is back again today, hiding in plain sight. Sometimes it's the feeling of someone staring, sometimes they're the shadow behind someone. They've been around a lot lately. Slowly creeping closer and closer to my periphery. Soon…

Not now, though. Shooting a glance around, I pick a spot and flicker away again. Next to this stand, under that awning, around the second corner. Again and again, I _move_.

So many weeks that have turned into months of running courier missions has made slipping through crowds of people nearly second nature to me. Doing it at body flicker speed requires more concentration, but the challenge gives me a strange satisfaction.

It's become a game to me now. Move here, then there, don't let anyone notice, don't step there or you'll crash. _Lava, lava, don't touch the lava. Run from the monster, don't be caught._ I want to chuckle at the familiar thought.

The sun's position in the sky tells me I'm on schedule to complete this run even faster than yesterday. Checking my chakra reserves, I appear at the top of the road leading to the genin office building and take off towards it at a run.

Vaulting over the windowsill into my usual side room, generally empty thanks to an anchored genjutsu on the door, I allow myself a small grin as I drop my disguise for the day. Walking over to the small cabinet in the corner, I dig out my bag from where I hid it, swiftly changing out of Dan's old, and now only slightly too big for me, clothes and back into my own.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I let my hair down from the tight bun it's in, and exit the room heading to the chunin on rotation.

"Genin Nakamura reporting in," I say, placing the messenger bag on the desk for the chunin to put away until the next set of messages need delivering. "All deliveries that were assigned have been signed for and completed. No current messages to report from the chunin or jonin stations at this time." Although I delivered plenty between the two divisions today.

"You are released from duty until tomorrow, Genin Nakamura," the chunin says, flipping through the sheet of signatures. "Be faster next time. Time is of the essence in message delivery, and I see that you still aren't meeting the required timestamps."

"Of course," I reply through gritted teeth before turning on the spot to leave. Faster, faster, faster! Just how fast do they expect me to be? Am I really that slow? Everyday for the past few months I've been improving my time. I even mapped out the village in my free time to find the fastest routes and shortcuts. Ridiculous!

I walk out the door to the office and make it several steps before the sound of my name stops me.

"Nakamura?" Turning, I look around for a moment before spotting my old classmates, Shibi Aburame and Kizashi Haruno.

"It is you. Why are we surprised? Because you vanished from the academy without a trace," Shibi says, monotone. A nice juxtaposition to Kizashi, who has a dumbfounded sort of look on his face.

"It's nice to see you, too?" I raise an eyebrow, changing my direction to walk closer to the pair.

"Where did you go?" Kizashi asks, scratching at the back of his head. "Nara and Heir Uchiha seemed to know something but they wouldn't tell anyone."

"I didn't ask them to do that, not that it matters anymore." I point to the protector on my forehead. "I was graduated and sent to the courier division."

"Everyone thought you got kicked out after cheating during the Ninja Games!"

I stare at the plum haired boy in silence; it doesn't take long before Kizashi winces and looks to the ground. Hiding a smirk, I turn my attention toward the silent Aburame, "The rest of the class graduated recently too, so, like I said, it doesn't really matter anymore."

"Who's your partner? Everyone in class was paired up at graduation. No one was left over. We're actually here to meet up with the Heir Hyuga and Ikeda, and Noriyo and Yuma to go on a mission," Kizashi asks, seemingly getting over his earlier embarrassment.

"It only takes one person to deliver a message, Kizashi. I don't have a partner. I've been running solo this entire time."

Feeling a familiar chakra, I turn around. I watch a genin team walk through the front doors into the genin offices before the source of the chakra becomes visible to me. "Hey, Noriyo." My friend gives me a lazy wave, physically leaning away from her companion, Yuma.

"Nakamura, what are you doing here?" I hold back a sigh. Is this going to happen every time I run into someone from my academy class?

"She's a genin, idiot. Use your eyes. She has as much a reason to be outside the genin offices as any of us." I shoot Noriyo a nod of thanks. If I have to explain it myself every time, it's going to get old fast. Unless I can get someone else to do the footwork for me.

"Pretty much," I shrug. "Mind spreading the word for me, Yuma? You're pretty loud, it'll save me the trouble."

"I think Noriyo has rubbed off on you a bit too much," Yuma mutters, stopping short, nosed crinkled in annoyance.

Well. I suppose we never _have_ gotten along very well.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing. Where's Jerens?" I look around for Yuma's nindog companion. He's definitely Yuma's better half.

"Sick. Some stupid cold has been going around. I had to leave him home."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he gets better soon."

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." Shoving his hands in his pockets, Yuma directs his attention away from me.

"Hey, Shibi, where are the other two? I want to finish this mission and get back to Jerens."

"I cannot say, but they should be arriving any moment now. The Heir Hyuga would not be late."

I sidle up next to Noriyo, eyebrow raised. "You never told me you got partnered up with Yuma."

"Too much trouble. He's annoying. It should be forbidden to pair a Nara up with someone from such a high energy clan. Too bad there weren't any Akimichi or Yamanaka in our class. They would make a good partner. Even a civilian raised partner would be preferable."

"Wow, you must be pissed. You never talk that much," I joke, giving Noriyo a light nudge.

"I heard that you know," Yuma growls.

I open my mouth to respond, but stop at the feeling of another chakra signature I recognize. "It looks like the last of your group is here," I say instead.

"As usual, your chakra sensing abilities are nothing special. Stop pretending to be a ninja and go home, Nakamura."

"It's hardly pretending when I've been sanctioned to wear the symbol of the village, Heir Hyuga." Flipping my hair behind my shoulders to make my forehead protector more prominent, I stare down my old friend. Behind him, Ikeda seems to fidget in place. Poor girl. She was always so timid, Hiashi's harsh personality is probably pretty hard for her to deal with.

"This is pointless. Why? Nakamura is obviously a genin, so arguing the point is simply a waste of time. We should report in for our mission."

"Shibi's right," Kizashi chimes in. He seems somewhat unsure as he looks between Hiashi and I. Narrowing his eyes, Hiashi walks past me, nearly brushing my shoulder. "Cheaters will always be exposed in the end," he says quietly. My hand curls into a fist.

"I'm not a cheater, and you know it." Turning, I glare at Hiashi's back. "We're ninja. Honestly, calling any of us cheaters is like the pot calling the kettle black. We are in the profession of deception." Hiashi stops, but doesn't turn back.

"We are also in the profession of taking lives, as soldiers of this village and the entire Fire Nation. Something you are incapable of. If you can't fulfill one of the most basic duties, you have no right to call yourself a ninja."

I grit my teeth. If he had any idea of the nightmares I face, the _memories_ I have. He would never say that.

"Ikeda, let's go. We won't be late to report in for our mission because of this interruption."

"Let it go," Noriyo murmurs, coming up to stand at my shoulder as everyone starts to follow Hiashi into the genin offices. Shibi gives me a brief nod, and Kizashi a small wave. Yuma stares at me for a moment before rather quietly following after Ikeda who completely ignores me.

"But-"

"He won't hear anything he doesn't want to hear and you know it. You'll just be wasting your breath." Giving me a look, Noriyo slumps off after the others.

Once the door closes behind her, I let out a long breath of frustration. _What_ is with today? Looking up at the sky, I force a wry smile onto my face. The academy should be getting out right about now. I think I'll go bug Eggs.

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"Hey, Miyo?" Moving left, I dodge under the incoming fist before spinning out and around Minato to create some space. "Yeah?"

"Since when did you become so hard to hit?" The blond haired boy asks, obviously rhetorical. Minato steps back into my space, but I jump up, shoving his head down with my hand, using the momentum to flip over him and get away again. Turning around, I can't help but grin as Minato picks himself up off the ground. I've been the one eating the dirt so much lately that it's strangely nice to see it happen to someone else.

I give my friend a shrug. "No idea, Eggs. Sure you haven't just gotten worse?" I tease, knowing that it isn't true. Minato is still as much a genius as ever, and has definitely improved since we last sparred. It's just too bad for him that I've improved more.

Taking a moment, I begin to focus chakra into my legs and upper body, drawing on the yin and yang element, carefully separating the two energies out and sending them to opposite parts of my body. The fact that Minato is a genius definitely makes him the perfect person to test this out on.

Minato rolls his eyes before coming after me again. Dodging back, I deflect a few thrusts. The one downside to this technique is it takes a little longer than I'd like to gather the necessary amount of yin and yang energy. Once I feel like I'm getting close (I can tell by the distinct static electricity tingle zipping along my legs and torso), I jump back to give myself some space. Minato chases after me, but I launch into the air before he can get more than a few steps, the yin chakra in my legs fueling a jump at least twice the height I could regularly reach.

I draw the last of the necessary yin chakra to my leg and yang chakra to my shoulders (much safer than drawing it to my head) as fast as possible, feeling all the hairs on my body standing on end. Flipping my body over, I bring my leg down in a hammer motion while simultaneously flaring my chakra downwards in an erratic pattern, quickly closing my eyes and blocking my ears up with chakra (I learned my lesson after the eagles).

A split second later it happens.

I can feel the electric surge and air pressure as the air crackles sharply. My foot hits the ground at the same time the air releases a low deep grumble in response to the sudden bolt of lightning as my negatively charged chakra meets the positively charged earth. Not wasting a moment, I snap my eyes open, chakra already shifting and forming as my hand comes up into the last sign to send out the genjutsu I have planned.

The second I feel the genjustu release, I get to work stripping my chakra of any nature. If this works right, Minato won't be able to find me.

I watch him as Minato lets down his arms that he'd brought up to shield himself. His hair looks messier than normal, sticking up strangely and having a rather blown out look to it. My hands raise to my own hair in empathetic response, smoothing it out even as the strands persistently stick out and stick to me with the leftover static.

"Miyo?" Minato asks, looking at the spot where my foot impacted the ground. A small dark brownish-black scorch mark and the somewhat disturbed ground around is the only sign anything happened. Rubbing at his eyes, Minato looks around. He's probably seeing spots. I know I am. Something I need to keep working on.

"Miyo? Where are you? What was that?" Turning his head, Minato looks all around, alternately rubbing at his eyes and ears. I can empathize with his pain. I've had to go to Dan for more healing while creating this stupid lightning bolt than I ever had to go for him before.

Maybe I should have thought about that before using this trick against Minato? Oh well, if he needs healing, I'll just drag him off to Dan.

Finally, Minato seems to catch on as he raises his hands in the ram sign. "Release!" he says loudly, flaring his chakra a bit more than necessary. I suppose that's a side effect of me blocking his attempts to cancel out my genjutsus in previous spars. Overkill is always the answer, right?

"Fifteen seconds," I say as Minato finally spots me. "It took you fifteen seconds after my distraction to realize what was going on and release the genjutsu. That's enough time for me to get a decent head start, if I need to escape using the body flicker. Maintaining that lead is the next thing I need to work on." Since I still don't have a partner, working on being able to escape an undesirable conflict has become my biggest goal.

Minato just stares at me, his eyes wide and blinking fast, "Miyo," he asks, voice breathy, "what _was_ that?"

I shrug my shoulders, rubbing the back of my neck, "Just your regular old lighting bolt."

"A lightning bolt?" the poor kid sounds dumbfounded, "Since when can you create a lightning bolt? Since when can _anybody_ create a lightning bolt like that?! You didn't actually use any elemental jutsu! I know you didn't!"

Fighting down a smug smile, I shrug again. It's not like I can tell Minato that I remember my physics classes from a past life, and drew inspiration from them on how to create a lightning bolt from my oh-so conveniently charged chakra. "It's not so hard to figure out, Eggs. Yin chakra is negatively charged, the earth is rich in yang chakra, which is positively charged, they meet and they go boom. I read about it in a book." More like I specifically found a book with a vague theory on electricity in my dad's old study, and I use it as a way to justify my knowledge.

"Boom?" Minato asks, incredulous, his hands rubbing over his face.

"Well, I mean _technically_ , as the charges near each other a charge surge rushes between them, meeting in the middle, releasing energy and heat. The energy we see as a flash of light, and the heat expands so quickly we hear it as thunder. I mean, that's what I think happens. It's just a theory," I prevaricate.

Minato just stares at me, eyes wide and mouth gaping, "How did you not get shocked?" he asked, "How did _I_ not get shocked? I mean, I felt the energy, or whatever, but..." he gives me a desperate look, gesturing at nothing with his hands.

"Good question," I cheer, giving Minato a thumbs up, "That's where my elemental chakra comes into play, a bit. Subverting the energy away from me was pretty easy to figure out after some practice," I lie —it had hurt, and, as the faint static shock tells me, I still haven't figured it out completely, Minato doesn't need to know that, though, "and you're too far away and grounded for the energy to bother with. It takes the path of least resistance, every time. You were not in that path."

Minato continues to stare at me, mouthing to himself. My lip reading skills aren't quite developed enough (shame on me), but from what I can tell, he's asking himself 'where does she get this stuff' over and over again in variations of the original sentence.

As I watch, Minato slowly grins, seemingly coming to an understanding with himself, "Again?"

I grin back, cracking my knuckles, "Definitely."

..-. .- -.. . / .. -. - - / -. .-. .- -.-

"Miyo," Dan sighs, observing the faint burns on Minato's arms.

"I know, I know!" I raise my hands up, flapping them slightly, "But it's totally Minato's fault! He interrupted my kick!"

"He's lucky the energy surge didn't stop his heart!" Dan exclaims from where he's standing over a prone Minato. Said sunshine-haired boy gains a faintly worried look, one of his hands coming to rest on his chest as if to check his heartbeat.

I grunt, folding my arms, "Luck has nothing to do with it! I wasn't quick enough to disperse all of the chakra, but most of it was gone!"

Dan sighs again, running his glowing green hands over Minato's hands and arms, "You both need to be more careful," he chides, ending his healing jutsu and turning to a nearby cupboard, digging out a jar of yellow tinted cream that smells like rotten bananas, "That could have been really dangerous, you two. Sparring with an untested lightning technique," he shakes his head.

Minato sheepishly smiles at my cousin, shifting a bit restlessly on the exam bed, "Yes, sir."

I eye the two, wondering at how weird it is to see someone treat Dan so differentially. I mean, it makes sense, Dan is a high ranking chunin healer and Minato is a lowly academy student, but I'm too used to seeing Dan as my _cousin_ , not my commanding officer. I mean, I know what his straight, pretty hair looks like in the morning! My mom still reminds him to do his laundry and clean the house!

Minato wrinkles his nose as Dan slathers the cream over the burns and once again runs his glowing hands over the wound. Instantly, the cream solidifies into something that would look like saran wrap, if we were in another world.

"Don't get this wet for the next 24 hours. After that, soak it in warm water, it'll dissolve the bandage."

Minato nodded his understanding, moving to sit up, "Eh, eh," Dan tsked, pushing the blond haired boy back down, "Don't think that I didn't notice those ribs of yours, Mister Namikaze."

A sheepish look steals over Minato's face and he smiles apologetically up at Dan, "They're just bruised, but I really appreciate the help."

"Anything for a friend of Mi-Mi's!" I can feel my face drain of color as a slow grin spreads across Minato's face. He slowly turns to look at me, a wicked glint in his blue eyes.

' _Mi-Mi?'_ he mouths at me, raising an eyebrow.

I gather my chakra and separate the yin and yang energies between my two hands, slowly bringing them together behind Dan's back. As my hands near each other, a small spark appears, buzzing with the sound of static electricity. I have just enough time to make a threatening look at Minato before Dan whirls around, "Miyo!"

I disperse the energy and fold my hands behind my back, rocking on my heels and giving Dan an innocent look.

Dan's mouth opens, but a knock on the door interrupts him. My cousin glares between Minato and I before he makes his way to the door.

I slide up next to Minato, staring down at the boy. Minato stares back, one eyebrow still raised, "You call me Eggs, I call you Mi-Mi," he says as he shifts into a sitting position, his voice flat.

I roll my eyes, mentally preparing myself for years of 'Mi-Mi' from my friend, because at this point there's really no chance of me dropping Eggs.

"Aunt Mari?" I hear Dan exclaim. "Again? What are they having you do out there, this is the third time in as many weeks!" I turn toward the exam room door. The door is only partially opened, and Dan's back is blocking most of the view.

"Hello, Dan. I was told that you were here with my daughter and her friend?" I hear my mom say, a note of strain in her voice.

I exchange a glance with Minato, "Mom?" I call, stepping closer to the door.

Dan shuffles out of the way and opens the door wider. My mom steps into the room, casual as can be, a large amount of blood staining the left side of her ribs and down to the edge of her shift, her jounin vest dangling from her right hand.

I hear Minato jump off the bed as I step closer to my mom, my eyes wide, a sympathetic surge of pain sparking in my sternum, " _Mom_ ," I breath, taking an aborted step forward.

Mom waves her empty hand through the air, a bored expression on her face, "Don't waste your time worrying over nothing, Miyo," she commands.

Always listen to Mom.

Reluctantly, I nod, stepping to the side with Minato as Mom swings herself onto the bed, not a flicker of pain apparent on her face.

Dan immediately steps to her side, his hands glowing a deep green. Mom shifts around my cousin as she digs through her flak jacket, making a faint noise of triumph as she opens one of the pockets and pulls out a small scroll.

"Miyo," she says, turning toward me as best she can, "Take this to the jounin commander." She holds the scroll out toward me, "Don't delay, now."

I nod, forcibly calming the shaking in my hands before I reach out and take the scroll, "Yes, ma'am."

Mom nods to me, briefly looking over Minato before she turns to the silent Dan, a narrow eyed look of displeasure on her face, "It's not your place to question the contents of missions, Dan."

I take that as my que to go, grabbing hold of Minato's wrist and walking toward the door.

"Yes, ma'am," I hear Dan's soft voice as I close the examination door behind me, leaning briefly against it and taking in a deep breath.

Minato waits silently next to me, his concerned eyes tracing over my face. Taking one last deep breath, I push away from the door and make my way toward the hospital entrance.

"You're mom seems pretty cool," Minato offers, voice hesitant.

I laugh, shaking my head, "Intimidating, maybe," I tell him, forcibly shoving all thoughts of her wound in the back of my mind —Mom's a strong ninja, she'll be fine. "I've never heard anyone call her _cool_ before."

Minato chuckles, tucking his hands into his pockets, "I don't know, she was acting like she wasn't even hurt. I think that that's pretty cool."

"I think that that's insane," I tease, "The mark of too many missions!"

Snorting, Minato shakes his head and bumps his shoulder against mine, "Cheers to our exciting future!"

Laughing, I bump back into him. We settle into a comfortable silence, Minato wordlessly following me to the jounin command station near the Hokage tower.

"Wait here," I tell Minato, stopping in front of the doors leading into the building. Minato nods his agreement, settling with his back against the wall, "This shouldn't take long."

Turning, I push open the doors. The jounin command station is, from what I can tell, a front office for the real command station. The building is small and cramped, full of desks and grumpy jounin manning them. From what I've been able to observe over the last few months, there's a bathroom, a storage closet, and a small, itty bitty break room leading off from the main room —definitely not the real commanding office.

Stepping up to the nearest desk, I wait in silence, the scroll Mom had given me clutched in my hands hovering over the desk.

I don't fidget, I barely even breath. I just stare at the bent head of Miss Thulin. Slowly, I see Thulin's shoulders become more and more tense, her movements as she stamps and signs papers becoming sharper and sharper. Finally, she delicately puts down her stamp and pen and looks up at me. Her face is pretty, but her eyes scream murder.

"Nakamura," she seeths behind a pleasant voice, "You aren't on rotation today."

I smile benignly, holding the scroll out with unwavering hands, "Delivery from jounin Nakamura," I tell her cheerfully. I've missed this. In the last month or so, I've been practicing my disguises, so I can't interact with Thulin how I'd want to.

Thulin bares her teeth in a smile and slowly reaches out to take the scroll, "Thank you for your delivery, have a nice day," she grits out.

Smiling wider, I bow slightly, "You, too!"

I turn on my heel and walk to the door, waving over at Greene at one of the desks. The man laughs into his elbow and winks at me, shaking his head.

I practically skip out of the door, hooking my arm through Minato's and dragging the poor boy with me.

There's a reason that Minato is my favorite, though, because the blond haired boy just goes along with it, half jogging to keep up with me, an amused smile on his face as he waves at the bemused civilians that we pass.

"Where are we going?" Minato finally asks as we near the edges of the city, a knowing look on his face.

"To the orphanage."

"Why to the orphanage?"

"I want to see where you live," I slow down as we reach the correct street, turning toward Minato with a pleading look on my face, "You've seen where I live, so it's only fair."

Minato laughs, shaking his head, "Nothing quite beats your garden," he teases, but starts walking down the road, a fond smile on his face.

"You should have seen it when my dad was alive," I muse, a pang of sorrow pulling at my heart, "It was ten times better."

Smile fading slightly, Minato tips his head back a bit, staring up at the cloudless sky, "That would have been nice," he muses.

I nod, smiling a bit, "You should come over for dinner sometime," I say, tugging myself away from painful memories, "I make the best veggie stir fry."

Turning slightly toward me, Minato smiles and playfully punches my shoulder, "As long as you don't give me food poisoning."

Gasping in mock outrage, I cross my arms and huff, stomping the last couple pases toward the door of the orphanage, "I would never!" Already I can hear the cacophony of numerous children yelling over each other and playing.

Minato steps up to the door, giving me an amused look. "You sure you want to meet everyone?" he asks, mostly teasing but a hint of vulnerability in the back of his voice.

"Sure! I'm great with kids!"

Minato gives me the look that that deserves, "Have you ever been around kids?" he asks.

 _Not for over a lifetime,_ I think. I shrug at my yellow haired friend, "How hard can it be?"

Shaking his head, Minato opens the door, "You asked for it." I follow behind Minato as we enter the orphanage. Instantly a large cheer starts.

"Minato's home!"

"Minato!"

"Welcome home!"

"Will you play with me?"

"Teach me something cool, Minato!"

"Did you beat people up today, big brother?"

Minato is swarmed by pint-sized humans, all of them pulling at his hands and clothes, demanding attention. Minato laughs and pets at the heads around him, trying to answer their questions even as they ask more of them.

Leaning against the doorway, I watch my friend and the kids with an amused smile on my face. An older man with a limp and a cane, his face covered with scars, deftly dodges around the flailing children and makes his way to my side.

"Nakamura," he rasps, nodding his head at me. I think about asking him how he knows my name, but decide not to. This is obviously a retired ninja, and the small tattoo on his wrist, a small pendulum, says that he used to be a part of the T&I department. Retired ninja usually tattoo signs of their previous departments somewhere on their bodies —a way of keeping their past with them.

"I'm Hishiro Katori."

"Miyo Nakamura," I nod in greeting.

We stand in silence next to each other, just watching over the children for a moment, before a thought occurs to me, "Where are the older children?" I ask. None of the kids surrounding Minato are older than six.

Katori grunts, leaning a little more onto his cane, "Most of the older kids are on a camping trip."

I nod my understanding.

"Minato brought a girlfriend!" I hear, before a little body slams into my knees. Looking down, a boy with deep brown hair and hazel eyes stares up at me, "Are you Minato's girlfriend?" he asks with an adorable lisp.

Before I can open my mouth, more kids surround me, their little hands pulling at my clothes, "Are you his girlfriend?" they ask over each other, "Are you, are you?"

I hear Minato choking out a denial. Looking up, I see that his face is red and his eyes are wide. I can't help the laugh that slips out of my throat. Crouching down next to the kids, I look at them with wide eyes, "I thought one of you were his girlfriend!" I exclaim theatrically, "Minato told me he would introduce her to me. Is it one of you?"

The girls giggle shrilly, clapping their hands over their mouths and turning admiring eyes up to the boy. The boys make disgusted face.

"Ne," one of the boys pats my shoulder, "They're too young to be Minato's girlfriend!" he tells me, little face serious.

"I see," I nod solemnly before I look up to Minato, "That's a good joke, Minato," I compliment. The kids around me cheer in agreement.

"You really fell for it!" One little boy exclaims.

"Yeah, you really did!" A girl nods.

Laughing, I nod, too, "I really, really did," I agree.

Minato continues to blush, looking a bit flabbergasted. I stick my tongue out at him. The kids seem to find this the greatest thing ever, because they start sticking their tongues out at each other. Woops.

I stand up and am about to walk over to Minato, but for just a second, I sense a flicker of movement from outside. I whirl around. The door is still open. Stepping up next to Katori, who is leaning against the door frame, I look around. The sun is setting, sending deep shadows across the street.

"Hmm," Katori grunts with suspicious eyes.

I nod in agreement.

I hear a pop followed by a small puff of smoke. I feel Katori tense up next to me, his hand clutching his cane tightly. As the smoke clears, I can make out a head of white hair.

"Sakumo?" I wonder, feeling Katori relax next to me.

"What's going on?" I don't jump, but it's close. Minato steps up behind me, leaning over my shoulder to look out the door.

The smoke has completely cleared, and I can see Sakumo clearly now, "It's just Sakumo," I tell him, feeling my limbs go a bit weak as the adrenaline fades.

"Who's Sakumo?"

"Sakumo Hatake," Katori grunts as I step out of the door frame. "My commanding officer," I tell Minato over my shoulder.

I take quick steps down to the street and face Sakumo, "How'd you find me?" I ask suspiciously, "What do you want?"

I haven't seen Sakumo in a while. It's become very frustrating, not knowing what was going on. He pulled me out early to go into infiltration, but that hasn't happened yet. He doesn't train me, he barely talks to me except to bait me into sparring with other people. I don't understand Sakumo Hatake.

"Now, now," Sakumo chides, an amused look on his face, "That's no way to talk to the guy who just did you a huge favor!"

I glare, a tickle of fear climbing up my spine, "What did you do this time?"

Sakumo's hand shoots out and ruffles my hair. I swipe my hand at him, but miss.

"Be nice to me, or you won't find out," he teases.

I glare harder, hands on my hips. We stare in silence at each other for countless minutes, Sakumo continuing to look amused.

" _Please_ ," I finally grit out, "tell me what you did."

Sakumo claps his hand in happiness, smirking down at me, " _I_ ," he emphasises, "just got you an appointment with the Kafshe clan! I heard you didn't have much luck with those eagles."

He spread his hands, as if awaiting praise. I just eye the teenager in suspicion. How'd he find out about the eagles? Besides Dan, Yvette, and Mom, no one should know about that.

Sakumo deflates and sighs, shaking his head, "You really need to start appreciating me more, Miyo," he complains as he digs through his vest, pulling out a piece of paper. "Be here at sunrise tomorrow, or the clan won't talk to you," he tells me before disappearing as fast as he had appeared.

I shake my head and gaze down at the piece of paper, wondering at the random jumble of numbers and letters on the paper. Great, a riddle. What a pain. Still, though, the Kafshe clan…

I had asked around about them after failing to attain the eagles summons, and I hadn't figured out a lot. They're a reclusive clan that deal in personal summons, and you need an invitation to meet with them. How had Sakumo done it?

Absentmindedly studying the paper, looking for patterns and codes in the 104 digit long sequence I make my way back up toward the orphanage. Minato is still leaning against the door, studying me with intelligent eyes.

"What was that, Miyo?"

"I wonder," I muse, "I've got to go, Eggs. See you later?"

Minato's brow furrows, but he nods easily enough.

I smile softly at the boy and offer a wave at the children peeking out from behind him, Katori nowhere to be seen.

I turn on my heel and body flicker away, landing with crouched knees in my tree behind the academy. I think best here, and this riddle is triple encoded.

* * *

We're moving along, people! Things should start to get pretty exciting next chapter~

Thank you to all of you who reviewed this last chapter -especially those of you who encouraged us on our POV choices. We hear stories of authors complaining about bad reviewers all the time, but we don't get it. You guys are awesome, and we really appreciate the thoughtful reviews! A special shout out to _Kalmaegi_ , we've missed seeing your reviews, and it was very nice to see your thought process as you read through all the chapters. Another shout out to _Guest_ , we're so flattered that you like our story so much! In regards to your question... well. We'll see ;) Hopefully we got back to the rest of you! If we didn't, we'll catch you next time!

Last bets on what her summon will be? Anyone? Anyone? No? Fine...

Thanks again for sticking with us -we're loving the flood of follows and favorites! And we're hoping to hit 100 reviews with this chapter... fingers crossed!

The Splits


End file.
